Curse of the Unborn
by Storyteller of Darkness
Summary: For twenty years the planet has been at peace. Death has seen fit to shatter that peace, and Destruction is only far too happy to help. Unnatural creatures and people who refuse to die when they should are the enemy soldiers. Who will live? Who will die? Sometimes, even the plans Fate sets in motion go wrong.
1. Chapter 1: A Hellish Heaven

_**Sorry it took a while to get up. School starting up and all that, you know the excuses that all authors on this site my age use. But, here it is, my infinitely improved version of my story **_**A New Threat**_**. I obviously greatly changed the title, summary, and, of course, the storyline. I have also drastically altered numerous characters and events. It will be a different story, a better story.**_

_**And to you new readers, I hope you enjoy this story. The ones who read the original may have some slight advantage over you with knowing who is who and some plot developments that I'll leave on cliffhangers up to a point, but that just takes away some of the fun. So you'll probably enjoy the first few chapters even more!**_

_**Xeralisk: good news for us, I suppose.**_

_**And here we have our infamous villain, Xeralisk! Say hello to everybody.**_

_**Xeralisk: Crawl in a ditch and die.**_

_**I said 'say hello' not 'wish them all to their doom'**_

_**Xeralisk: That is how I say hello.**_

…_***blink blink* …**_

_**Xeralisk: Nothing to say to a part of your own mind?**_

_**Considering that you're technically me and I'm technically talking to myself, I technically already have numerous times.**_

_**Xeralisk: Your constant technicalities are **_**technically**_** pissing me off!**_

_**I technically know. That's technically why I said it. **_

_**Xeralisk: Grrrrr!**_

_**And now he's going to maim me. Please, enjoy the rewrite as I RUN FOR MY LIFE!**_

_**Xeralisk: GET BACK HERE YOU INSOLENT WORM!**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 1: A Hellish Heaven

Welgaia was on fire. The bland, mono-color buildings were painted black by the charring flames and obscured by the choking smoke that rose before them as they silently fell into ashes. Corpses of angels, many dismembered, others impaled on their own weapons, littered the streets, adding their ashes to the ones that accumulated on the ground.

"Long ago, there was a tree that produced infinite amounts of mana, the source of life."

The monotonous voice echoed across the gore-covered landscape. Sky blue boots drummed out a steady march as their owner made his way through the havoc-stricken streets. Smoke coiled around him, obscuring his features.

"A war caused this tree to wither and die, and a half-elf used Origin's power to split the world in two, preserving it from destruction. But he became corrupted by the power he wielded, and went mad."

The constant footfalls led the man to a small staircase leading to a large transporter. After a pause, the sound of boots on stone rose up the staircase to it.

"Four thousand years after the splitting of the worlds, a girl, the Chosen of Regeneration, and her companions fought against this tyrant. After defeating him, they planted a new tree of mana, and unified the worlds once more."

The steps faded as the boots stopped on a large transporter, which began to glow and the figure faded. He reappeared in a large, dark medieval castle, filled with smoke from the city below. He walked down the hall on his right, climbing a few stairways before reaching a large tower with a spiral staircase hugging the walls. In the center was a pit which seemingly had no end when one looked down it. From higher up the tower, sounds of fighting could be heard. The sound of metal clashing against metal rang in the empty structure and the building shook as powerful spells were cast in the mayhem.

"The world should have been at peace, but peace rarely accompanies such radical changes."

The figure began to climb, unfazed by the groaning complaints of the abuse of the stone around him, seemingly unaware of the shouts of pain and the singing of metal in the air.

"The newly unified countries of Tethe'alla and Sylvarant, whom made up the two worlds, were in conflict with each other. The Tethe'allans, with their vastly advanced technology, viewed the Sylvaranti as barbarians. Tensions grew and eventually the Sylvaranti formed a sort of resistance, known as the Vanguard. These happenings, combined with the sleep of Ratatosk, the Summon Spirit of the Giant Kharlan Tree, which caused natural disasters and weather anomalies throughout the world, sparked a second journey from the group known as the Heroes of Regeneration. With two new companions, they put an end to the conflict between the two countries and awoke Ratatosk."

The staircase rumbled as a loud, low growl of thunder shook the tower. Powerful wind blew through the building, clearing it of the toxic smoke that clouded the vision of all. For the first time, the man was clearly visible.

He stood at average height. Sky-blue hair stood out against a background of peachy skin and ashen-grey eyes. A pure white cape fluttered behind him. Two snow-white strips of cloth crossed over his chest over an azure sleeveless tunic, forming an "X". His arms bulged with muscle obviously gained from years of hard combat. His white leggings were tucked into his sky-blue boots. On his left hand, a scar in the shape of a new moon, though it was not much more than an empty circle, stood out. On his right, there was a scar in the shape of a full moon, faintly shining a soft white.

He carried with him a scythe a good two feet taller than him. Due to its size, the man was forced to carry it at an angle from the ground. The four-foot-long blade softly glowed a pure, uncorrupted white in the half-light of the castle. The handle was made of an oddly colored metal. It was the same color of freshly dried blood, an eerie brownish-red. Near the blade and about a foot from the end, four small blades, no longer than four inches, curved away from the center of the staff where one would hold it. The blades sat on opposite sides of the handle and were perpendicular to the blade. At the base, a spike stood out, six inches in length and extremely sharp.

The brightly dressed man reached a landing with a sealed portcullis on it. The sounds of fighting originated from behind the door. All around the portcullis stood two men and two women dressed in very different ways and even a wolf.

One of the men wore a sand-colored cloak which slightly hugged his body, accenting his thin features, and hid all but his ruby-red eyes from sight.

The other had a green flock-of-seagulls haircut and wore a shirt, pants, and boots which all had fragments of excess cloth hanging from them and there were splashes of bright green all over, as if the clothes had been colored in a tornado. On his back, there was a contraption of some kind that held four javelins, three made of plain wood and the fourth made of metal and highly decorated, in an eight-pointed star pattern.

The first woman wore an ocean-blue traveler's tunic, modified to accommodate her feminine features, and blue leggings which flowed around equally blue boots. She had aquamarine hair which flowed down to her mid-back and sapphire eyes and she had an air about her that was as alluring and unpredictable as the sea.

The second woman stood before the barrier, her arms outstretched and a look of concentration on her face. She had closely cropped blood-red hair and piercing crimson eyes. She wore an elegant scarlet sleeveless gown which flowed over her features and pooled slightly at her feet.

The wolf had a savage gleam to its dirt colored eyes and its dust-brown fur was matted with blood-soaked dirt. It had a slight snarl on its muzzle and blood-stained teeth gleamed in the light given off by the grey-eyed man's scythe.

All of them took immediate notice of the man's presence and knelt, the wolf sitting on its haunches and bowing its head and the crimson-eyed woman merely ducking her head, since she couldn't properly kneel while maintaining the barrier on the portcullis.

The man gazed placidly at them as they paid homage to him. "For twenty years, peace has reigned upon the planet. But, beneath the mask of this peace, events play out and the Wheel of Fate turns, drawing up a conflict as old as the planet itself. The world will fall to its knees, even the heroes that saved it many times helpless, before the might of the entities at war. And none will be able to stop the calamities brought on by the Unborn!" the man finished in his unchanging voice. He made a dismissive gesture and those before him rose. The cloaked one stepped forward.

"High King, we have found an angel of power that suits our purposes. Unlike the other angels, he seems to have retained his emotions and independent thought processes," he said, his voice occasionally crackling like a fire.

The High King merely grunted in response. "Who is testing him?"

"That new Lord with the blue hair whose always carrying around that Iron Maiden thing. I believe his name is Decus." The sapphire-eyed woman answered, her voice rippling like water.

Just as she finished speaking, the sound of a sword rending through both armor and flesh came from the room beyond the sealed portcullis. It was quickly followed by the sound of clattering metal and the soft thump of a dead body hitting the floor.

"Well, it sounds like one of them died. And I smell blood," the wolf sniffed, his gravelly voice rumbling like a miniature earthquake. "Which one was it?" He said, turning to the woman in the scarlet gown.

"It was Decus, which means the angel won, Earthenclaw," she said.

The wolf made a sound that was probably the equivalent of a purr, though it sounded much closer to a growl. "Serves him right, wearing that atrocity of a cologne and having the nerve to say that it was attractive. I'm pretty sure they stopped making that stuff years ago, too. I've always wondered how he keeps getting it," Earthenclaw said, lying down and resting his head on his forepaws, "It will be so much easier to breathe without that nutcase around. I'm already looking forward to it."

"Then I suppose now wouldn't be a good time to inform you that he will be revived, would it?" The High King said without looking over at Earthenclaw.

Earthenclaw's head snapped up from its restful position. "What did you say? You can't be serious! Why would our master waste his energy by bringing that fool back from the grave _again_?"

The High King's cold, emotionless gaze fell upon the wolf. "I do not know the why's, who's, what's, when's, where's, or how's, I merely do what I am instructed to do and relay what I am told to relay. You know this, werewolf."

"And when did he tell you? He said he'd never be anywhere near this gods-forsaken comet! You've always told us things, saying that the master told you them, but I've never even seen you two in the same room! I've put up with it for tens of millennia, but I want answers, now!" the werewolf barked, standing back up and baring his long, blood-stained fangs at the scythe-wielder.

"Earthenclaw, it isn't a good idea to threaten High King Feral! You don't want him to have a vendetta against you. Sociopaths like him don't forgive very easily, if at all." The cloaked man said soothingly, hoping to bring the beast to his senses.

"I've had enough of this crap, William! Either he gives us a straight answer, or I'll get one from him as I tear him to shreds!" He snarled viciously, a low growl beginning to claw its way out of the werewolf's throat.

The cloaked man put a hand to his head and sighed. "If he can take all four of us at once, what makes you think that you'll be able to defeat him alone, Earthenclaw?" he asked. The werewolf merely snarled in response.

Feral turned and crouched to look the wolf in the eye. William cringed as he did so, expecting the worst. "To answer your question, I have a special connection with him resulting from my being the second being to die, and this bond is strengthened by our scythes. Yon, my scythe, is the brother weapon of our master's, Apoll. Now, if you still wish to fight me, I have no objections, but we have more important matters at hand." Feral calmly lectured. Not a flicker of anger crossed his features nor did a hint of venom creep into his words. He stood and returned his attention to nothing in particular.

William made a motion like wiping sweat from his brow. "Phew. You are so lucky that he didn't cut your head off, Earthenclaw."

"Shut up, you coward! Always hiding beneath your cloak like some desert wanderer. Why don't you just come to terms with what you are?" Earthenclaw growled, turning his attention to the man.

"What? You know exactly why I-"

The green haired man sighed, walking up to the High King, ignoring the now arguing wolf and man behind him. "Your last statement prompts me to ask the question: what do we do now, Feral?" he asked casually, his voice whispering after each syllable, as if it was being carried to the ears on the wind.

"Zephyr, it is improper for you to speak to your betters like that," the woman holding the barrier said.

"Shut up, protozoan! Just because the man is stronger than me doesn't mean he's my better," the man shouted, the whisper changing to a slight howl, adding sinister qualities to his rage.

"But seeing as you are only a Lord and he is the High King, You should show him proper respect. Just because you-"

The woman with aquamarine hair looked around her with anger as her companions, Feral excluded, fell into arguments and chaos. She clenched her fists as rage filled her being. Finally, she screamed, "All of you just stop shut up! You're like a bunch of children, constantly fighting and bickering amongst yourselves! All of you are tens of thousands of years old, so start acting like it, or I'll pound some sense into you myself!"

Everyone froze as all eyes focused on her in shock. William was in a state of preventing Earthenclaw from ripping his throat open and Zephyr pulling a javelin from the carrier on his back to throw at the protozoan woman, who had a hand away from the barrier, mana pooling around it to defend herself. "Honestly, I'm shocked. I thought we had gotten rid of our disagreements years ago!" she finished, looking at them very angrily. She then turned to William. "I'm especially shocked at you, William."

William took the statement like a physical blow, visibly flinching. "Well, I wish I could say more than 'I'm sorry' to you, Telarra," William said sheepishly as Earthenclaw got off of him and sat down. William got into a more comfortable position himself. "Though you are right, we were bickering like children."

"Of course you take her side," the werewolf sighed, though more to himself than anyone else. Zephyr looked pissed still, but sheathed his javelin and the mana around the protozoan's hand dissipated as she returned it to the barrier.

"Thank you for calming everyone down, Telarra," Feral said, his eyes still not looking at any of them as he strode towards the sealed doorway, "Now back to business. Hema, allow me into the room."

The protozoan woman nodded and let the barrier fall, raising it up again once the sociopath had walked through.

Earthenclaw eagerly padded up to the door. "That angel's going to die so fast, he won't even remember when he died. This is going to be good."

"It has been awhile since Feral fought, so this should be good," Zephyr said as he walked up, William and Telarra soon following.

"Well, he's just like the rest of us, up at the top of the chain of command. We rarely get to do anything. We're just like that poem you wrote describing us, William. How did it go?"

William's eyes smiled as he recited:

"A mysterious man with numerous faces,  
A protozoan woman who is so submissive,  
A nomad who hates all of the earth's races,  
A werewolf that is either aggressive or passive,  
A changeling huntress with sapphire eyes,  
And a forgotten king who is so full of scorn,  
These are the six beings that have comprised  
The do-nothing powerhouses of the Unborn."

"Yeah, that's really pretty and all, but if you'll stop spewing that stupid poetry of yours from your mouth, I'd like to concentrate on the fight," Earthenclaw barked. They all fell silent as they turned their focus on the imminent struggle between the High King of the Unborn and the former Seraph beyond.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kratos knelt on the ground, leaning heavily on his sword for support as he gasped for breath. He was vaguely aware of sounds of shouting and fighting from beyond the doorway, but he was far too tired, mentally and physically, to take notice, let alone care.

Near him rested the body of the man that Kratos had killed. As Kratos fought for consciousness, he couldn't help but wonder who he was. He said something about being the "twenty-seventh Lord of the Unborn", but this created more questions than it answered. Plus, his mana was just… off.

Shouting… the sounds of a barrier falling, then rising again…footsteps approaching him. Kratos didn't even have the energy to look the man that would no doubt kill him in the eye. He fought the darkness that threatened to take him, determined to at least be awake for his final moments. It was a losing battle.

Just before Kratos lost the fight for consciousness, he felt a hand grasp his collar and hoist him up. Something was shoved into his mouth. "Chew." The command was simple, but Kratos could barely comply.

As he chewed, an incredible flavor flooding his mouth and spread sweet energy throughout his body. Chewing became easier as his wounds closed and mental and physical energy returned to the dying Seraph. Kratos looked up at the man who had saved him and was greeted with an odd sight, a man with a rather demonic looking scythe and a very bright wardrobe. But what really caught Kratos's attention, were the man's eyes.

They were ashen grey orbs of nothingness floating in a sea of white. They held no compassion, no love, no empathy, but neither did they possess anger, nor hatred, nor hesitation. They were the eyes of someone without a soul, willing to do whatever is asked of them and were hell-bent on seeing it through. They were the eyes of one of the worst possible foes, the eyes of one who didn't care if they lived or died.

"Stand." He commanded. His voice was a reflection of his eyes, void of passion or motive. Kratos slowly complied, not taking his eyes off this man.

"Have you no word of thanks for the man who saved your life?" he asked.

"…"

"I see, a man of few words. I can respect that. I am Feral MoonScythe, High King of the Unborn."

"…"

"Your name would be an adequate response," Feral said as he turned towards the corpse. He reached out with his hand and seemed to concentrate. The ground beneath the dead body suddenly turned pitch black and started roiling like an angry could. The body sank into the amorphous ground and vanished along with the odd, cloud-like surface. Feral turned back to face the angel. "I still have received no answer."

"… I am Kratos Aurion, leader of what remains of Cruxis." Kratos said. He didn't trust this man. Half of his substantial amount of mana was thick and cloying, almost like the stench of death, while the other half was pure light-based mana.

"There, now. That wasn't so hard. You no doubt wonder why I am here," Faster than a human eye could track, Feral was upon Kratos, his scythe being held back by Kratos's sword and shield, "I am here to educate you."

The scythe pulled away from the sword and shield and fell lightning quick at different locations. Kratos struggled to block them all. It ended with another deadlock as Feral grabbed his sword arm and pulled him close.

"Why do you fight?" He asked, pushing away again and coming for another flurry of slashes. "Do you fight for your family? Your friends?" he questioned as they entered another deadlock. Throughout the whole ordeal, his voice remained steady and consistent, the inflections placed on the syllables not even changing.

Kratos shoved him back and thrust at him, bringing a lightning strike down on the man. He quickly stabbed again and brought a second lightning strike, this one accompanied by a concentrated burst of wind mana. "Lightning Blade! Super Lightning Blade!"

Feral was thrown back by the artes and crashed into the wall, bringing a cloud of dust.

"It's so sad, when such things are petty weaknesses." The figure of Feral Moonscythe emerged from the cloud, not a hair out of place nor a wrinkle on his clothes.

"…" Kratos clenched his teeth, a chill going down his spine. His attacks didn't do anything. His foe wasn't even breathing harder.

"Ah, I forgot to mention my Blessing from Yon." Feral raised his right hand, back facing Kratos to show him the shining scar there. "The Full Moon lends me its protection, making my skin harder than diamond. It also kills my emotion, giving me nothing that proves my sentience but Will. In other words," Feral charged Kratos again, who ducked under the horizontal strike, "I know not emotion, but Will is everything I need to drive me forward." He finished, his face inches from Kratos's. "Will grants me defense, but it is not enough."

They jumped apart, both skidding to a halt ten feet apart. "Will augments Emotions, and Emotions amplify Will. Without one, the other is left weakened, creating a weak point. For example," Feral was suddenly behind Kratos, swinging his scythe viciously at his torso. Kratos tried to block, but Feral's arms were suddenly coated in a black fire, making the swing be moved by something beyond superhuman in strength. Kratos took the blade to the solar plexus and was launched into the air. He quickly pulled his blue wings from his back to steady himself in the air and avoid slamming into the wall. Kratos's eyes widened as he realized that he could not only still breathe, but didn't seem to have any injuries from the strike at all. A blow like that to the solar plexus should have left him incapacitated, if not, killed. "I cannot do harm with my scythe. It is just for show like this." Kratos flew back to the ground and faced his opponent, curiosity filling his being.

"What exactly are you?" Kratos asked.

"I am Unborn." Feral answered.

"I'll ask again, what are you?"

Feral regarded Kratos with a cold stare apparently deciding to ignore his question and asked another of his own, "You don't fight for anything, do you?"

"I don't see how what I fight for is relevant to the current situation."

"It is relevant, because it means how well you will fight. What one fights for defines one's purpose in life. Without a purpose, one is Lost in this universe, searching for a purpose. Without a purpose you can't hope to win this fight. I can last much longer than you can even with your angelic abilities. The longest time I've spent in continual battle: eleven days, twenty-two hours, forty-four minutes."

Feral launch himself at the angel, forcing Kratos on the defensive. Kratos could technically take the blows without being injured, but Kratos knew that would wear him out faster. He needed a way to break this man's defenses, or else he would eventually die of exhaustion, even with his angelic body. Continually fighting for almost twelve days was beyond a human's, an elf's, or even an angel's capabilities.

Do you seek a purpose, Lost One?

The sudden voice caused Kratos to miss a parry, sending him crashing to the ground twenty feet away. The black fire that engulfed Feral's arms faded as he fell back into a ready stance. Kratos noted how his attacks always seemed to be many times stronger when the black fired was present. He lethargically climbed back to his feet since his opponent wasn't charging him or even looking like he world. The four-thousand-year-old angel noted without surprise that he was unaffected from the blow, just like the last one.

I can give you a purpose. All you have to do is follow my orders directly. I will even lend you some of my power. Do you accept these terms?

The voice was raspy, filled with struggle to make the words audible, as if they came from a dying man. Kratos thought about his options. This new entity was offering him a chance to win this fight. Kratos didn't like the terms, but decided to accept.

As soon as that decision was made, a sense of purpose and power welled up within him, coursing through his veins and filling his limbs with a previously unknown strength. Kratos felt it welling up within him as he charged his foe. "Take this!" he said as he slammed his sword to the ground, much like he would have done for Fierce Demon Fang, but instead it flowed outward in a vertical beam of energy mixed with a shockwave, both colored white. "The First Circle!" Feral grunted in pain as the strange arte collided with his skin. Kratos then followed it up by slashing to the right, knocking the scythe out of the way. Kratos immediately slashed back to the left, leaving a small cut on the man's chest, and then punched Feral in the gut with all his strength, which caused him to fly upwards a bit. This gave Kratos the perfect target upon which to impale the Unborn King. "The Second Circle!"

Such amazing artes. Kratos wondered briefly how he suddenly learned them.

Feral slid off of the sword, the blow injuring him slightly but not impaling him. "Impressive. To be able to cut me after only the first pillar…" Feral murmured to himself.

"I suppose that 'Will' of yours isn't such a perfect armor after all." Kratos said, sword pointed as his foes neck.

"Don't think I'm done yet, Aurion. You've yet to see my true strength." Feral stated as he threw himself away from the Seraph and took an odd stance as he flung off his cape. He held the scythe behind him and his left hand covering his right eye, his legs spread just beyond shoulder-width and knees slightly bent. "Let's see how you fair against the New Moon!" Feral screamed as Dark energy spiraled around him, creating enough pressure to force Kratos to shield himself. A grin clearly born from madness had now adorned the emotionless warrior's face.

The healthy peach tone of Feral's skin inverted itself into a sick shade of greenish-black. The silky white cloth that made up his clothes warped into a coarse black material, even the cape tens of yards from the man. Everything sky-blue on the High King instantly became an odd shade of brown, similar to the color you get when looking through an empty glass beer bottle. The whites of his eyes became an eerie shade of red as blood filled them and the irises twisted into a black void, emphasized by the surrounding red of his sclera. The circular scar on the back of his hand seemed to absorb all light, becoming even blacker than the new tone of his skin. The soft white glow of the scythe reversed itself into a darkness that sucked the color from everything around it.

And his mana, still with that thick, cloying sensation, was warped into one of chaos and madness. The once light half was now blacker than the deepest regions of Neiflheim, and more enigmatic than the clinging sensation felt from the other half.

But, as Kratos lowered his arms, he once again felt his gaze drawn to his eyes, his formerly soulless eyes.

Anger laced the pitch-black irises even as depression filed the pupils. Sorrow and fear shined in their depths and hatred caused the edges of the irises to quake. A spark of rage so intense that it gave the loathsome orbs a manic gleam casted its light over everything in them. Merely by looking this man in the eyes, Kratos felt an irrational fear fill his mind and he fought to hold his weapon steady as he tried to figure out why he was so afraid all of a sudden.

Altogether, an imposing figure now stood before Kratos, one whose appearance was worthy of the name "Feral". But, even so, it looked like the man could burst into tears at any moment, despite the enraged appearance.

Feral raised his scythe and slammed it, blade-down, into the ground. He raised his arms in a fighter's stance as he faced Kratos, without a weapon. "Come at me with all you've got, you miserable excuse for scum." Feral growled, quite literally. A permanent edge now coated every word that passed from his lips, as if the man was infuriated at anything and everything there was.

Kratos took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. At least now he knew a weakness of his foe. His mana, or at least half of it, was clearly in alignment with Darkness mana, which meant he was more vulnerable to light mana attacks. And Kratos just happened to be one of the most powerful angels there was, which meant he was quite adept at light magic.

Kratos held his sword before him and felt feathers of light rise around him as he quickly chanted the words to the spell, "Sacred powers, cast your purifying light," Feral ran towards him, his hands balling into tightly clenched fists as he approached, "upon these corrupt souls. Re-ugah!" Saliva flew from Kratos's mouth as Feral's fist pounded into his solar plexus, this time sending shooting pain throughout it body and stealing the breath from his lungs. Kratos was launched into the air once more and slammed into the wall, which didn't help his breathing. He fell to the ground on his hands and knees as he gasped for breath. Such a powerful blow, and the man hadn't even used that strange black fire which seemed to make him many times stronger.

"What makes you think I'll let you get a spell like that off, worm? I am much stronger than before. I don't even need to use Yon to kill you like this. For you see," Feral said as he walked up to the fallen Seraph. He grabbed Kratos by the throat and effortlessly hoisted him into the air, "I am the hatred that lurks in your heart!" He threw Kratos over his head, jumping up after him. "I am the despair that stalks the deepest part of your mind!" Kratos tried to gasped for breath as a barrage of lightning-fast punches from the superhuman-if he can be considered human at all-being. Sickening cracks were extremely audible as the attack broke several ribs and even Kratos's nose. Blood gushed forth , adding to Kratos's dire situation. "I am the sadistic thrill that fills your veins, sending adrenaline pumping throughout your body. I am the New Moon!" He cried, his voice shrill and cracked, perfectly matching the madman's demeanor as he spun in the air and slammed his foot on top of Kratos's skull. Kratos was launched down and impacted the ground, a cloud of dust billowing from the impact point. Feral landed effortlessly beside the small crater that was revealed as the dust faded from the air.

The battered body of Kratos Aurion laid broken on the ground, still clinging to life. Bruises covered his body and blood trickled from his mouth. His eyes were already gaining that glazed quality of the dead. Blood poured from his nose and from a laceration hidden somewhere in his hair, though that didn't hamper the wound's ability to spill blood into his wine-red eyes. Despite the shattered appearance, Kratos clung to life, struggling to lift himself.

Feral watched the pitiful sight before him without an ounce of remorse or empathy. He merely hopped down next to the fallen warrior and firmly placed his boot on the small of his back, just below the wings, and forcefully shoved him back onto the ground. "You really should be thankful, you know. That onslaught just now actually moved your diaphragm back into its proper position, which means that your struggle to breathe right now is from exhaustion."

Kratos gasped for breath. Painfully, syllables that were barely audible managed to escape from the battered body. Feral grinned wickedly as he leaned down to hear what were undoubtedly to be the last words the man would utter.

"…Rest…in peace…"

Feral cackled as he straightened and pushed down harder with his foot and began twisting it, pressing Kratos further into the ground, earning pained gasps from the man. "Hahahaha! I've barely even started fighting and you're already begging for death! Ahahahahahaha! This is just too good!" An evil grin plastered the High King's face as he stopped grinding Kratos's body into the ground.

A low moan escaped the nearly dead man. "…Sinners…"

Feral's eyes widened in rage as the word reached his ears. "How dare you, whelp. You think you have the right to judge me just because you've lived four thousand years?" He lashed out with his foot, kicking the angel sharply in the side of his stomach, right on one of the ugliest looking bruises on his body. Kratos cried out in agony. Feral gripped the man by the neck, practically choking him from behind. "Maybe I should grant your request from before." Feral growled. Then his smiled as he shifted his hands from the throat to the roots of Kratos's blue wings. Black fire coated his arms, casting an eerie light on the man's demonic features and smile filled with sadistic expectation. "Don't think I'm just going to let you slip away without having a little fun first!" Feral chuckled as he slowly began to pull, putting Kratos in an unimaginable state of pain.

Through the screams of pain and anguish, a single intelligible word was heard.

"Judgement!"

Beams of light fell all around the room, rocking the tower as the powerful spell. Feral looked up, the astonishment he felt as plain as day on his face. He was right in time to see a pillar of light slam squarely into him. Piercing agony wracked his body as he crumpled to the ground, hugging himself in a futile effort to contain the pain. A second beam of light barreled into his back, causing another agonized scream to tear itself from the psychotic sadist's throat.

Feral glared at Kratos through one squinted eye, outrage filling his face. "You were casting a spell that entire time?" He haltingly snarled through clenched teeth. Due to the amount of time that the spell had been charging, it was far more powerful than normal, forcing the High King to take time to recover from the blasts.

Kratos, in the mean time, had immediately started casting a strong healing spell. "Healing… Stream," he panted. A swirling blue circle surrounded the angel as it healed his wounds to an enormous degree. Kratos felt relief flood him as the pain subsided and bones bent themselves back into place and cuts and abrasions stitched themselves back together. The worst of the wounds stayed, but were significantly lessened in likelihood to kill him. After a quick First Aid, Kratos stood over Feral, his sword pointed at the back of the man's neck.

Just as he was about to behead the monstrosity, he heard something he didn't expect to hear.

Feral was crying.

"I'm so sorry," The man sobbed.

Anger flared up at those three words, outraged that his enemy thought so little of him as to think he fall for a trick like that. "Those words change nothing." He said sternly, determination to rid the universe of this _creature_ shining in his eyes.

"No, not for that. I just realized how painful it must have been for you to be forsaken on this comet."

Kratos was confused as to the man's sudden change in behavior. Was it a trick? No, it couldn't be, not unless this _creature_ suddenly decided to cry. Then what he said clicked.

"I was not forsaken on this comet. I came here of my own will." Kratos told him coldly.

"Don't you regret your choice though? Don't you wish you could go back, to see your family and friends? They surely knew that you would eventually, but they obviously didn't care enough to stop you."

"They cared enough, they tried to stop me many times and I-"

"All part of the charade!" Feral moaned, "They make you think they care with their begging you to stay, but they're really strengthening your resolve. They tricked you, Kratos! Just like he tricked me…" Feral's babbling faded into sobbing as he began to shudder violently.

"I know what it feels like, to be forsaken. That man, so many years ago. I thought of him as a father, and he left me to suffer in the Realm of Evitagen. He gave me Yon, saying he would protect me, but it was a lie! All a lie!" The rage from before returned full force, drying the man's tears. "Just like they did to you!" Black fire burst into life around the man's limbs as he swung fist towards Kratos's jaw. Kratos jumped to the side, knowing that if that attack connected that Kratos's head would be off his shoulders and on the ground.

Don't worry, friend. I will never forsake you. As long as our deal holds, I will always be with you.

The strange voice said as Kratos ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged the constant punches from Feral. Eventually, Kratos found his back against a wall. Feral pulled back his fist, arm consumed by those demonic flames.

Suddenly, the feeling of power and relief from before came back, stronger than ever. Kratos felt himself duck beneath the punch and roll to the side. A sickening crunch was made as Feral's fist punched a small crater into the wall. The fire from that arm faded as he pulled the appendage back and bared his teeth in pain. Feral's fist was bent in about a dozen spots that it shouldn't have been bent in.

Kratos felt no pity for the _beast_. He had realized long ago that this was no man, even if he bore the form of one. Kratos charged him, sword glinting in the pale lighting of the building. "Take this!" he shouted as he held his sword before him and spun it around in his hand, giving Feral about six gashes right next to each other in the chest. "The Third Circle!" Feral recoiled in pain, but Kratos didn't let up. He punched the _creature_ in the gut, sending him flying high in the air, where Kratos appeared next to him and swung his sword, giving him five more sword wounds, and then sent him crashing to the ground with a blow to the head by the hilt. "The Fourth Circle!"

Once again, Kratos had suddenly learned powerful artes. These seemed to coincide with the odd voice aiding him. Maybe the voice was sharing some of its power with him.

Feral shakily staggered to his feet. "I see how it is now," He growled, popping a special gel into his mouth. He reached out and picked up his scythe, which he happened to land by. Turning to face the angel, Feral threw him a special gel as well. "If I'm going to go all out, it isn't going to be on a foe who is already injured. I want you to last a bit!"

Kratos ate the gel, never taking his eyes off of the foe before him. That pride would be his downfall.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Okay, I got some time away from Xeralisk, so I can tell you some things real quick. By the way, scleras are the whites of your eyes. It was the easiest way for me to make sense in that sentence.**_

_**First off, who liked the character development? Sorry for introducing so many OC's in one chapter, but it was the method my imagination demanded it be played out in. You'll see each of them on their own eventually and they'll each show their darker sides, or in some cases, lighter sides.**_

_**As for the poem, if it sucks, I'm sorry. I made it up on the spot to describe each of the six most powerful members of the Unborn. It goes from strongest to weakest, describing Feral, Hema, William, Earthenclaw, Telarra, and Zephyr. It also reveals a snippet of their pasts and other such things. **_

_**And I leave you with a cliffhanger on the first chapter. The fight with Feral was going to be so massive that I decided it was probably better if I split it into two parts, otherwise this chapter would be twice as long as I normally make them and then I'd feel obligated to keep that length up for the entire story. And I leave you with so many questions to be answered but I really needed to get this story up by the promised time. I'm actually a little late already. But don't worry, I'll answer the questions next chapter, along with my intro of Xeralisk, who will probably do more than just maim me if he finds out about how I postponed his appearance. Don't tell him, please.**_

_**Anyway, in the next chapter-**_

_**Xeralisk: THERE YOU ARE, YOU MONGREL!**_

_**Crap! He caught up to me.**_

_**Xeralisk: ON TOP OF IRRITATING ME, YOU CUT ME OUT OF THE FIRST CHAPTER! NOW I'M REALLY GOING TO KILL YOU!**_

… _**And he found out about the change of plans had. Well, gotta run! I don't care if you review or not. Don't worry, I won't get offended if you don't review. I realized that your reviewing (or not reviewing) shouldn't affect my morale as an author. So send me a hate review, send me a love review, send me an "OMG! WTF?" review, or don't send me one at all, I don't care. Now, where were we?**_

_**Xeralisk: You were screaming in terror as I pursued you hell-bent on tearing you limb from limb. **_

_**Oh yeah, thanks. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!**_

_**Xeralisk: WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Death and Unbirth

_**(sounds of explosions as people are dismembered and disemboweled. I am sitting in front of TV with an Xbox controller in my hands.) Die stupid soldiers. Crap a tank. Eat Hammerfist, tank! **_

_**Feral (Full Moon): Phoenix…**_

_**What? I'm busy killing people on Prototype.**_

_**Feral: I realize that, but the readers are here.**_

_**What? (crashing and struggling) Sorry about that… Hey, who wrote the stuff up there?**_

_**Feral: (shrugs)**_

_**Really? Uh-huh. Anyway, the second chapter, where many things will be explained, introduced, and revealed. So much to write, so little patience to write it with. **_

_**Anyway, I'm going to actually try to stay on an update schedule this time. I'll be updating once a week, unless conditions do not allow. I apologize in advance for any late updates, just to add to the profuse amounts of apologies I will give you in the event of such a thing.**_

_**Feral: An excellent decision. **_

_**Yes it is. Which reminds me, I need to explain my policy on responding to reviews.**_

_**Feral: I am rather surprised to hear that you remembered.**_

_**What's that supposed to mean?**_

_**Feral: precisely what I said.**_

…_**If you have an account and review, I will personally respond to your review at the next opportunity I receive to do so. If you don't, I will put your anonymous review name combined with my response to your review right here in the starting Author's note for you to read once I get the next chapter up.**_

_**I'd give an example, but I don't have any anonymous reviews **_**:*(**

_**Feral: Your Author's Note is getting rather long. Now would be a good time to start the chapter.**_

_**Oh, and one more thing-**_

_**Feral (New Moon): START THE GODS-DAMN CHAPTER, YOU IMBECILIC MORON!**_

_**(whimper) okay, okay! Don't kill me. Ugh, I need to introduce some of my good guy OC's so I'm not threatened constantly in my AN.**_

_**Feral: (narrows eyes)**_

_**I'm going!**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 2: Death and Unbirth

"WHAT THE HELL? WHY IS THE BASTARD OF AN ANGEL STILL STANDING? GET SERIOUS, HIGH KING FERAL. I WANT TO SEE THE CUR WRITHE IN PAIN BEFORE HE DIES!" Earthenclaw howled in rage.

"You're right; there is no way that Kratos should still be alive." William agreed.

Suddenly, Earthenclaw's ears twitched. "Does anyone else feel that?" the werewolf asked.

"If you mean your Totem being activated, I've been feeling it for a while. It seems that Feral is Unbirthing him," Telarra confirmed.

"If you and the werewolf sense your Totem's activation, then that means he's been confirmed part of the Lost and the Forsaken, respectively. Seeing as he's still alive, I would assume that that means mine is up next. Let's see if he's been forgotten," Zephyr said coolly.

"Which means I'll be last in the Unbirth, since I'm the Deceased," William sighed.

"Why is it happening while he's alive? Isn't it easier to perform an Unbirth when the target is dead?" Telarra wondered aloud.

That is indeed true, Telarra.

All of the Unborn present jumped as they turned to see a doorway made of numerous coiling wisps of pitch-black smoke. From the portal, the creaking of ancient bones moving and an odd whispering sound wandered to their ears. Each and every one of them immediately fell to their knees, practically prostrating themselves before the entity leaving the portal.

He towered over all of them at the height of eight feet. With every movement the hem of his cloak whispered against the ground and the ancient bones in his body groaned in protest. As he walked onto the stone landing, the dull clink of bone on stone resounded through the air. He was covered in nothing but a large black cloak which hung loosely over his body, hiding all his features, save the fact that he was as thin as a skeleton.

From his sleeves, long, fleshless hands snaked their way out. In his right hand he clasped a scythe as tall as he was. The handle was black and featureless, allowing one's eyes to be drawn to the four foot long, serrated blade. It was the color of freshly dried blood, much like the handle of Feral's scythe. Upon the center, a human eye sat in a small depression. It looked a lot like a normal eye, with eyelids and all, except for the fact that the eyelids and sclera were the same color as the metal around it and the pupil was cat-like and iris-less. The entity turned the scythe in his hand, revealing an identical eye on the opposite side. He raised his palm and all of them rose, being sure to keep their heads bowed.

"Master Xeralisk, why are you here?" William asked in a slightly flustered voice.

"I am here to witness the Unbirth of my greatest servant." Unlike the deathly whisper from before, this voice was full of power, speaking of strength beyond imagining. Even though the sounds of the pillars of light striking the ground in the room beyond should have overpowered the quiet voice, it carried very easily to them. "I have found that those who don't age, much like yourselves," he gestured to the group standing before him, "gain the greatest power from the Unbirth while still alive. Now, let us watch this fight." He walked to stand at the front of the group before the doorway and looked on in silence as Feral MoonScythe pulled his scythe from the ground to fully confront his foe.

…

Feral lunged at Kratos, swinging his deadly weapon in an effort to rend Kratos into two. Kratos jumped over the deadly slash with some assistance from his wings.

Feral roared in rage as he unleashed a constant barrage of attacks, each almost too fast to keep track of, forcing Kratos back. Kratos felt panic rise in his stomach, causing each and every effort to move or block to be spurred from a rising degree of desperation. Defend with shield, block with sword, jump, dive to the ground, block with both sword and shield; simple thoughts such as these weren't even going through his head. Kratos had entered full survival mode, aware only of where his weapon or shield should go or what he should do to avoid getting impaled or bisected.

Feral swung at Kratos's head, making the angel duck, saving his brain from becoming mush upon the floor of Vinheim. But, in the same motion, Feral changed the trajectory of the scythe, so that one of the small blades on the handle cut Kratos deeply on the cheek. Kratos hissed in pain before the spike on the end of the scythe was shoved straight through his stomach.

Kratos gagged as he felt blood spew from his mouth and agony fill his being. Feral grinned maliciously as he twisted the weapon, causing even more pain to flare up. Feral planted his boot directly above the point of penetration upon the Hero of the Kharlan War and ungraciously shoved him off of the weapon, sending him flying twenty feet away. "Such a sad end for such a grand warrior. It almost makes my heart weep at the thought of you dying here in ignominy," Feral laughed manically as he rushed over to Kratos's limp form and grasped his throat. "At least, it would if I had a heart with which to pity you," He hissed as his grip tightened. Kratos struggled to pry the fingers from his neck, but the pain was too much. Kratos closed his eyes and shifted into his fully angelic form, causing the pain to fade and the burning sensation in his lungs to vanish.

Kratos gripped at the hands holding his throat with more strength than the enraged man before him thought was possible with a gaping stab wound in his gut. "I will not die here!" Kratos managed to gasp through the stranglehold upon him.

Feral seethed in rage as he felt the strong, steady pulse of the man's heart. His face contorted into one born of such ferocity and rage that Kratos faltered for a moment. "That pulse…" Feral seethed, "That gods-damned pulse! Always present in the living. I HATE IT!" Feral roared as he set his arms ablaze with those unnatural flames and launched Kratos across the room to collide with the wall and leave a small crater. "I HATE IT, I HATE IT, I…HAAATE…IIIT!" Feral raged, an anger that made those outside, except Xeralisk, shiver in fear. "The evidence of life, something I can't even remember if I ever had! Why are you blessed with proof of existence when I am not?" Feral screeched as the blade of his scythe was slowly consumed by a roaring inferno of ebony flames. "You have done nothing to earn it! You even gave up your aging, turning you into something inhuman and taking away death, the very thing that gives life meaning! You have erased your own name from history, ensuring that you would be forgotten for all eternity. No one remembers, nor will they ever remember, an insignificant creature such as you! And yet you are still gifted with that ACCURSED PULSE!"

Feral still stood at least fifty yards away from Kratos. Time slowed as the scythe, now surrounded by flames three feet tall, fell. The arc being blazed in the air seemed to move at a snail's pace. Kratos just looked at him in complete apathy. What the man had said was true. No one would remember him, and no one would care if he died here.

You will not be ignored if you died here. You haven't been forgotten, Kratos. I am still here to help you. As long as you live, I still know you.

Kratos didn't want to move, but the voice seemed to give his body a mind of its own as he stood. Time returned to normal as the flames flew from the scythe, gathering in front of it and expanding into a massive sphere of shadowy fire at least four stories tall. "ATRUM NEX!" Feral howled as a manic light shined in his eyes. "Now die, Kratos Aurion!"

Kratos moved at a pace he wouldn't have thought possible, especially in his state. He narrowly avoided the ball of flames as it plowed through the air, turning anything it touched to ashes. Every step was agony, the immunity to pain granted by angel-hood vanishing.

Feral's eyes widened in fear as the angel made a final lunge at him, launching him into the air with a punch and jumping after him, slashing viciously in a flurry of acrobatic feats. Kratos finished by slamming his sword down and falling with Feral, creating a white shockwave upon impact with the ground. "The Fifth Circle." Kratos gasped from the pain caused from the movements before he then made a swipe to the right and left, then punching the High King into the air again and spinning his sword to inflict a column of five deep wounds before stabbing his severely injured opponent into the heart, even as he was impaled upon the end of Feral's scythe. Weakly, Kratos grasped at his chest where the spike had driven through flesh and bone to jut a full foot out the other side of his body. Even as he fell to his knees, his grip on his sword was lost, and Feral was left to tumble to the earth with an expression of sadness and rage in his eyes.

Blood poured weakly from the wounds all over Feral's body. Many of them had ruptured vital organs and others had caused massive amounts of superficial damage. Clinically, the man should have been dead several times by now.

Feral's eyes slowly lost their light as they dilated. "Damn it," He coughed, "I was… careless... I guess… this weak… dead heart… of mine… was… too proud." Feral gasped for breath as he struggled to look the dying Kratos right in the eye. Kratos couldn't understand how the man could talk, even if he still had the energy too. His lungs had numerous holes in them. "Know this… angel… I didn't use… any artes… save for the… Atrum Nex…" Tears of blood began to fall from his eyes as the red liquid found every possible escape from his dying body. "If I had… been serious… you… would have died… long ago…" He fell into a fit of coughing and hacking weakly, blood flecking his lips a ruby red. Slowly, the dying gasp left the man as his eyes lost their light of mental instability, though they retained the same sorrowful rage as they did in life.

Kratos was too weak to feel happy for his victory. In the end, he had lost as well. Now, he was nothing more than food for the carrion eaters, though none existed on the comet. As footsteps ran towards where he lay by his defeated foe, darkness took him, and this time he didn't bother to fight it.

…

A unanimous gasp filled the air as Kratos used the last of his strength to use the final two Circles, mortally wounding Feral several times. The two fighting entities stood there in their positions of death, Kratos holding Feral impaled upon his sword as Feral grasped his scythe, which was plunged through Kratos's chest. They both released their weapons at the same time, falling to the ground in pools of their own blood.

All of them were in shock, though Xeralisk seemed as calm as before. He wasn't shocked at all; this was what he had intended to happen. This is why he forbade Feral from using artes. If he hadn't giving Feral some kind of restraint, Kratos would be a bloody three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, complete with internal organs and even armor. But now that Kratos was fully Unborn, that would never happen.

The protozoan known as Hema was the first to break the silence. "Feral," she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. The barrier fell as she ran towards the fallen King knelt next to him, the blood surrounding him not even making a visible stain upon her dress since it was the same shade of bright red. Raising his head to her lap, she gently closed his eyes and wiped the crimson trails left by the blood.

The rest of the gathered Unborn immediately ran into the room, Xeralisk merely walking in his slow, slinking step. Somehow, he managed to get there first.

Hema raised her head, tears staining her face as she laid Feral down and stepped away, turning her head and closing her eyes.

Xeralisk looked down upon the body of his High King and a small snarl erupted from his mouth. "Get up, you worthless piece of slime! I never said you could go into the afterlife!" He roared, though it never got any louder than that soft, sibilant whisper of his. He sharply kicked the corpse, sending it flying across the room as the sword slid from its sheath made of flesh and clattered to the ground.

Breath returned to the body as Feral spluttered and coughed. "He… ma…" he called weakly. She immediately rushed to his side and placed a special gel in his mouth, helping the man to chew it. As the sickening sounds of bones re-growing and cracking back into place mixed with the sound of flesh stitching itself back together filled the air, Xeralisk turned to confront the spirit of Kratos standing over his body.

…..

Kratos stood dazedly over his body as the black hooded figure faced him. Kratos could feel the eyes beneath that cloak burning into him as he realized that the… man, Kratos assumed (he had lost his ability to feel mana in death) could see him.

Slowly, a voice emanated from the folds of the cloak, a voice that was all too familiar.

Well done, Kratos Aurion. You have completed the tests and, even in death, you will serve me. I am your master, your punisher, and your liberator.  A skeletal hand reached up and pulled the hood down, revealing what this entity was in its entirety.

Bleached white bone glinted in the light as empty eye sockets gazed at Kratos, pulling him into their void. Kratos could feel the gaze searching the deepest parts of his soul, leaving nothing unexamined. A skeletal jaw set in an eternal grimace opened and shut, forming words without lips or a tongue.

I am Xeralisk, the Summon Spirit of Death and Destruction. Now, get up!

Kratos stared in horror at the being before him, the full implications of what had transpired reaching him. He had been enslaved by the master of the men he had killed, and he had accepted the enslavement!

The tilt of the skeleton's head changed, giving it an impatient look. I said get up, you spineless worm with the brain of a germ! The voice hissed. Kratos reached for his body and felt himself pulled back in, feeling the breath of life fill him. He opened his eyes, feeling once again the strange mana that helped him during his struggle, but it was different. Instead of a reassuring feeling, it was thick and cloying, strangling Kratos's sentences, much like the stench of death. It was the same mana that made up half of Feral's, and the same mana exuded by the Summon Spirit standing over him.

Xeralisk knelt down and stared at Kratos in the eyes. "So, how does it feel to be Unborn?" he asked, his voice full of laughter at the look of anger and regret on the man's face. Xeralisk pulled the scythe still lodged in his chest out and placed a hand on the wound, causing it to close along with all other injuries on Kratos's body. "You will begin your fight to determine your rank soon. But first, I will allow you to meet your new comrades and get some things explained to you. I can't have someone so strong be ignorant of the workings of my Unborn," Xeralisk whispered as he stood. This voice was different from the seductive whisper from before. It was more condescending and lethal, though it still carried itself quite easily to one's ears. "While you do that, I will take care of matters concerning the use of Atrum Nex in the fight with you with Feral," he breathed, the voice taking a dangerous edge to it. Xeralisk walked towards the High King. One of the men and the wolf that had followed Xeralisk in then waited nearby, an expectant look on the wolf's face and there was a hint of excitement in the green-haired man's sneer.

"Here," a voice like fire said softly, and a gloved hand extended, offering help to Kratos. He accepted it and pulled himself to his feet to look into the fiery red eyes of the man in the desert cloak he saw from before. A woman with an apparent obsession of blue, if her appearance was anything to go by, stood next to him. "I guess I'll be the first to welcome you, then," the red-eyed man said, putting a hand on Kratos's shoulder, "Welcome… to a hell you never thought existed. I am William FlameSword, Third King and leader of the Elemental Four, Keeper of the Totem of the Deceased."

Kratos looked curiously at the… whatever he was. His mana was extremely bizarre. He opened his mouth to ask-

"The Elemental Four are connected to the Totems, or incarnations, of the Four Pillars of Unbirth, which are the Deceased, the Forgotten, the Lost, and the Forsaken. The Elemental Four is a group of three half-humans and a werewolf. We each have control over one of the four main elements – earth, water, wind, and fire – that is beyond what anyone thought possible. I'll let the others introduce themselves. And don't bother asking what the other half of my genetic make-up is, because I won't tell you, and neither will Zephyr. Telarra might, but I doubt she would."

"What makes you think I would?" the woman demanded, narrowing her eyes. "I'd tell him that as soon as I'd tell him my real name."

"I didn't think you would, it's just that I think you would be the most likely, since the easiest way to explain what I am is to take off my cloak, which would then cause fear to scramble his thoughts and I would be cold – a lose-lose situation if I ever saw one – and Zephyr is far too arrogant."

The woman merely pouted in annoyance while Kratos just gazed at the cloaked half-human before him. He had answered each of the questions he was going to ask before they had even been thoughts. Could he read his mind?

"Another important thing is the ranking system," William continued, turning back to Kratos, "There are three ranks: Knight, Lord, and King. Knight is the weakest and King is the strongest. The rank you are is determined by your level of power, which is defined as more than just strength amongst the Unborn. After your rank is determined, a fight is set up to determine which place you are. For example, my place is three, so my title is obviously Third King. The First King is often referred to as the High King, while the rule also applies to the First Lord and First Knight.

"There are numerous Knights and about fifty-four Lords, eight of which no one has even seen since about two thousand years after this universe was created. They-" William clenched his fists as he closed his eyes and looked down. Telarra put her arm on William's shoulder, causing him to look at her.

"Let me explain this part, Will," She said, understanding in her voice.

"I can explain it," William growled. He took a deep breath and continued, "They are beings known as Death-Demons. They are creations of Xeralisk himself and they wield immense power. No one knows anything more than that."

Kratos raised an eyebrow. Why would it be so hard for this man to talk about them, unless… "You know more about them, don't y-"

"I _said_ that's all _anyone_ knows, Aurion!" William snapped through clenched teeth, his whole body shaking in rage and his ruby-red eyes glaring viciously at the angel. Telarra sighed.

"Anyway, the rank of King is special. There are only five Kings at any one time, meaning that if a new King was to be added, then the Fifth King, or Queen in my case, would be bumped down to the rank of Lord. Zephyr is the only example of this," Telarra continued the lesson as she indicated the green haired man watching Feral being submitted to extremely bizarre and rather cruel forms of torture. Kratos shivered, both disgusted at Xeralisk's brutality and fascinated by his creativity at the same time.

Telarra noticed and turned his head to look back at her, breaking the spell. "You'll get used to the sight, trust me," she said before continuing with the lesson. "Now, one must remember that just because these people are Lords, doesn't mean that they are to be grouped together with the rest of the Lords. They possess all the power of a King; they just don't bear the title. There is a significant power difference between a King and a Lord. Remember that. Now, I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Telarra WaterLance, Fifth Queen and Keeper of the Totem of the Lost." She held out her hand, which Kratos tentatively shook.

"So this is the newest member. The only thing that's special about him is that he's an angel. I don't see why he was made an Unborn in the first place," a voice that whispered like the wind said from behind him. Kratos turned to see the man Telarra indicated as Zephyr standing behind him, and a wolf who was undoubtedly the werewolf William mentioned. "You'll need this later," the man drawled, tossing the sword that had come from Feral's chest to him. Kratos caught on pure instinct.

"And your name is?" Kratos asked.

"I'll tell you when I'm good and ready, angel." He snapped, an arrogant and self-important aura emanating from his body.

"… Well?"

"Did I say that I would tell you now? No! Now shut up!"

"Zephyr, control your ego," William barked. Zephyr only sneered in response. William sighed, massaging his temples. "He is Zephyr WindJavelin, High Lord, former King of the Balacruf Dynasty, though they erased his name from all texts; and Keeper of the Totem of the Forgotten."

"And I am Ea-Gyaah!" the werewolf howled in pain as his body collapsed. The ends of his paws extended, becoming fingers as the claws retracted into fingernails. His hind paws widened and elongated into human feet as his four legs thickened into human arms and legs. His chest thinned and broadened as his muzzle retreated and the fangs shortened and dulled. His ears migrated to the sides of his head where they flattened and shrank. The fur retreated into his skin as the dried blood caking it fell to the floor in flakes. The only hair that remained on the man was the dirt-brown mop of it on his head. He breathed heavily as Telarra blushed while she turned around, trying to ignore the fact that he was lacking clothes.

Heaving a sigh, William's hand vanished into his sleeve, and it soon came back out with a small bundle of clothes, which he tossed to the man who was pushing himself into a sitting position. "That is Cowan EarthenClaw, Fourth King, King of the Werewolves, and Keeper of the Totem of the Forsaken. When he is in wolf form, call him EarthenClaw, but call him Cowan in human form. Also, ignore any quarrels he and I have. We have an extremely long history together and, to be honest, it isn't a very good one," William explained as Cowan clothed himself.

"I see. I have already met Feral MoonScythe, but one question remains. Who is that woman? Or, to be more precise, who is that protozoan?" Kratos indicated the woman who was tending to the injuries left by Xeralisk's punishments.

Cowan stood up. "She is Hema Karpos. She was saved by Feral when she was an aeros, and now she has been the Second Queen for about a millennium now, after she obtained her human form. She actually has a thing for Feral, though we have yet to figure out why," he told Kratos, his voice full of kindness. A sad gaze rested upon the protozoan in question, who tried to help Feral to his feet but was merely shoved away by the man.

"Bring me my cape," he commanded. Hema jumped to obey.

"All he ever does is treat her like crap and she takes it in stride. If I were her, I would have poisoned his water by now," Telarra said.

Feral took the cape as Hema approached him and pulled it back around his body. He stretched his hand towards the scythe still by Kratos. "Yon, return to me," he called. The scythe flew to his hand obediently, startling Kratos slightly.

"Clear the room. The fight to decide the High King begins as soon as all possible interferences leave," Xeralisk rasped as he left the room.

"I'd say good luck, but you're quite frankly screwed," William said before leaving. The others followed him, saying similar things.

Begin. Xeralisk's ethereal voice commanded. In response, Feral lashed out at Kratos, forcing him back a ways. Then, Feral swept his scythe to the right, then the left, followed by Feral quickly closing the distance and slamming his fist into Kratos's stomach, which sent him into the air. Kratos thought quickly and used his wings to fly out of the way of the scythe blade waiting to impale him. "The Second Circle!" Feral growled.

Kratos landed on his feet and made a swipe at Feral, which ended in a deadlock. Kratos pushed with all his might and by the strain evident on Feral's scowl he was too. They were evenly matched, unlike before.

"Fine then, you cretin!" Feral screamed as he pushed back. "I'm not going to play around this time, so I'm going to finish this now! You should be honored that I'm willing to use this technique," Feral said as he raised his scythe above his head. "Witness the power of absolute darkness, the kind borne from the blocking of the sun! Solar Eclipse!"

Mana of the darkest shade surged, converging upon the man. The cape around his shoulders melded to his skin, spreading itself all across his body as it formed a layer over him. His entire body took the color of a supreme darkness as his mana tripled. It looked like an organic suit of armor. The only gaps were the ones where his eyes peeked out, glaring black orbs of controlled rage floating in a sea of the deepest red. The edge of the scythe's blade became a pure white as a light the same color began to shine softly around the man.

"Come at me, evil angel. Show me your strength." A cold voice emnated from the depths of the helmet.

Kratos obliged by rushing him and sending his sword straight into the man's stomach, a sonic boom erupting from around the sword as it broke the sound barrier. "Super Sonic Thrust!"

The ringing of metal on metal erupted in the chamber. Kratos eyes widened, staring in horror at the point where Feral's seemingly armor-less body prevented the sword from piercing him. As Kratos watched, cracks spread over the first fourth of his sword before it shattered, much to Kratos's shock. _What? How did…_ he thought, staring at his foe. A cold, mirthless laugh burst from the mouth of the man before him.

"That's unlike you, Kratos. You never rush in after a taunt like that without considering anything that your foe might be trying to employ." Feral's metallic voice chuckled. It was similar to Full Moon Feral's voice, but it didn't have that emptiness to it. This voice had an underlying layer of malice and hatred.

The truth in Feral's words struck Kratos as they reached his ears. Making a mental note to chastise himself about it later, Kratos jumped away before straightening and focusing upon the man now coated in what would appear to be impenetrable armor. "Why didn't my sword pierce you?" he asked.

"Do you remember what I said about Will? That it augments emotions and is amplified by them? Solar Eclipse combines the attributes of my previous two forms, the armor qualities of the Full Moon enhanced fiftyfold by the emotions of the New Moon, protecting me from almost anything. Only two things have ever been able to pierce my hide, so it is unsurprising that your sword was far from adequate. My weapon-" Feral swung the scythe to demonstrate its power. A wave of mana flew from its tip, forcing Kratos to shield himself or lose his head. "-can launch waves of cutting mana at my foe. While these waves may only be as sharp as a normal weapon, my scythe itself can cut through anything. Only Xeralisk has defeated me in this form. If you surrender now, I promise to make it quick."

Kratos clenched his fist around his sword and shield. If Lloyd had taught him anything during his travels, it's that nothing is ever hopeless. Kratos would just have to find something that could cut through that armor.

"I take that stance as one that is unwilling to surrender, despite the gods themselves being against him. Very well, I'll just cut you to ribbons!" Feral said much more calmly than he would have in the New Moon. Feral calmly began to walk to his foe, who was desperately searching his mind for a way to injure his opponent.

Then, a memory struck Kratos. That ball of flames Feral had summoned, Atrum Nex he called it. Surely that could injure him, if the way it obliterated everything in its path was anything to go by. Kratos's gaze flicked to the wall, now with an enormous hole in it from the blast. Yeah, it could definitely do the job.

"You should never take your eyes from your opponent."

Kratos returned his attention to Feral just in time to react to Feral swinging his scythe to behead Kratos. Kratos tried to jump out of the way, but knew he would still be struck by the scythe. He brought his shield up to protect him from the blade. The metal cried out as it was cleaved in two like a piece of paper. Kratos narrowly avoided having his hand cut off. The sudden torque created from cutting the shield, however, redirected the blow enough so that it was only a glancing blow across Kratos's chest.

Feral sighed in annoyance. "I was even being gracious in trying to kill you so you only had to live for another five seconds before death. You impudence merely makes it harder on you." Feral made another swipe at Kratos, this time aiming to cut off his arm. Kratos foresaw this and jumped out of the way. Kratos assumed he could use that arte, now that he was an Unborn; however he had no clue how.

Channel my mana into your sword and allow it to build. It will grow stronger and the flames will grow higher as the power and size of the Atrum Nex increase. Once it builds to the point where you want it to be, then swing your sword and release the mana. No matter how much you charge it, however, it will only be six stories in diameter at most.

Kratos silently thanked the Summon Spirit that had enslaved him as he did just that. Feral paused as he watched the fire form itself around the broken blade. Kratos could almost see the smirk on Feral's face beneath his mask of armor. "An excellent thought, but not the correct one." The enigma of a man admonished.

Kratos ignored him and released his reigns on the mana as he swung the sword. A three-story tall ball of black fire formed itself from the mana and flung itself at Feral. Feral merely stood there.

The sphere erupted into a massive explosion, centering on Feral and spreading dark flames in a wide area. Slowly, the flames died to reveal the black warrior. "I even told you it wouldn't work. I'll tell you one of the two things able to injure me. It is Apoll, which is Master Xeralisk's scythe. It has the ability to cut through anything." Feral called, resuming his casual stalk towards Kratos.

An idea struck Kratos. He charged Feral, surprising his foe and leapt over him, grabbing his scythe and bringing it about to slice across its wielder's chest. Feral grunted as a thin red line appeared on his chest, blood slowly trickling from it. Feral gazed down at the injury inflicted by his own weapon. "I never thought you would figure it out so quickly. Yes, the other thing is Yon, my own scythe. But, that is the only damage you will deal." Feral turned to face Kratos, a fire burning within his eyes.

"I don't need to make any more," Kratos told him as he charged another Atrum Nex. Feral looked at him in disdain.

"If that didn't work before, what makes you think it will work now?"

"That fact that it can now get past your armor." Kratos unleashed the Atrum Nex just as Feral's eyes widened in understanding. The blast met the armored King head-on, earning a scream of agony as the unnatural flames weaved their way into his body via the slash on his chest. As the fire faded, Feral was revealed, standing there listlessly. His eyes were charred black from the arte and the wound on his chest was cauterized. Feral slowly fell back and landed on the ground with a resounding crash. The High King, in his prime form, was defeated.

Well done, High King Kratos. You are now ready for your first assignment.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**And end the opening scenes. I'm so happy. I've definitely improved over the last version! I improved so much, I had to split it into two chapters.**_

_**Feral: You made me die…**_

_**Yes, Feral, I did. Get over yourself, your not all-powerful. **_

_**Feral: You should probably start running. I'll give you a five minute head start. **_

… _**Crap. Well, I gotta run, literally. Bye!**_

_**Feral: review if you so desire. He has four more minutes. **_


	3. Chapter 3: An Angel's Curse

_**Chapter three is here! And I still haven't received any reviews from a new reader. Oh well, it doesn't mean people don't like my story. And it doesn't mean that I should let it get me down.**_

_**Anonymous review responses:**_

_**Still none.**_

_**Well, in this chapter I will introduce three more OC's. After this, I'll be slowing it down on the OC introduction. I'll try to limit myself to one per chapter at the most.**_

_**Thomas: That's good. It gives you more time to develop the character of the previous OC's and establish relationships between them. **_

_**Yes it does. Oh, and thank you.**_

_**Thomas: For what?**_

_**For being the first person who won't kill me for the slightest reason! (crying)**_

_**Thomas: …Yeah… umm, I'm just going to pretend that you weren't breaking down in tears.**_

_**Sorry (sniffs), it's just that the previous OC's that I had in my Author's Notes were evil and they tended to be kind of… bellicose.**_

_**Thomas: that's a word you don't hear every day.**_

_**Sorry, my English Class Vocabulary is getting to me. It basically means 'quick to start a fight'.**_

_**Thomas: Oh. Okay. **_

_**Now, the three people I'm introducing in this chapter are: Sylvia Sage, Sylfer Sage, and-**_

_**Thomas: Me, Thomas Aurion!**_

_**Now, to anyone who might review or has any comments on my story, I am trying to improve my non-fight scene writing, so any and all pointers in that area are much obliged. Now, to the tale. **_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 3: An Angel's Curse

"I will not obey such an order," Kratos stated adamantly, giving his signature death-glare at the skeleton.

Xeralisk merely gazed back with those empty sockets of his. "Did none of you explain the Evitagen to him?" He asked the Kings and Lords assembled in the heavily damaged room of the castle.

"No, we didn't. It kind of slipped our minds," William said, "Besides, the person who is the best at explaining it was kind of being punished at the time."

"You're right. King Feral, tell the High King about the Evitagen," Xeralisk told Feral.

Feral, now in the Full Moon, sighed. "Must I always be the one for this task, Master Xeralisk?" He asked dejectedly.

"It is unlike you to question an order in that state, Feral. I understand that the memories are far from pleasant, but that doesn't change the fact that you are the only one who has ever returned. Now, tell your tale."

Feral sighed once more before moving to stand before Kratos, looking him in the eye. "What is it you fear most?" he asked.

"…" Kratos raised an eyebrow.

"What if I told you that what you thought you were afraid of wasn't really your true fear?" He continued, undaunted by Kratos's silence. "True fear is caused by the desire for something to last. The loss of a loved one, the death of a friend, the thought of being alone for an extended period: fear in its greatest form is something intangible, unlike a sword or a spider. The Evitagen finds your deepest fears, and exploits them."

Kratos just stood there, unmoved. Feral gave an equally expressionless look back at the Seraph. "How would you react if I told you I was once a very happy and energetic man?" he questioned.

"I would laugh at you, given the impossibility of the statement," Kratos answered.

Feral leaned in closer to the man. "It's true. Seventy thousand years ago, I died by Xeralisk's hand. Sixty-three thousand years ago, I was sent into the Evitagen for attempting to defeat Xeralisk, never to be returned to the world. One other went with me. I remember very little of my life before the Evitagen, but I remember these things quite clearly.

"The Evitagen is the place where he sends those who are too insubordinate or those who flat out rebel against him. It is also where he puts those among the living who he deems a threat to his plans. It is the ultimate punishment, and only one has escaped: me.

"I spent three years in there. In the Evitagen, I kept a journal of what I experienced. At first, I could remember everything about my past clearly, and my mental state was untouched. But I slowly descended into madness.

"In response to the hallucinations and visions I was forced to watch over and over, my mind tried to put it at an end by pushing away negative emotions, including fear. But it was a wasted effort. Eventually, I reclaimed the negative emotions and threw away my positive emotions; they were nothing but dead weight to me in there. Slowly, my will was eaten away to leave me nothing but the insanity of pure negative emotions. Over the months, I lost the comfort of even those emotions. I regained my will and hardened my heart to everything around me. But still, the Evitagen found a way to sink its claws into me. At some point of the process, I lost the evidence of my existence: my pulse.

"The other man had abandoned me long ago and cast himself deep inside the Evitagen, but I struggled on. I wandered throughout that wasteland until I was certain that I had gone past madness. One day, I found myself pushing through some kind of fog, and that through it there was something I hadn't seen in a very long time, light. I somehow managed to force my way out, after three years of madness. What you see today is the remnant of the man that went inside. I can reclaim some states of the madness I went through, but I can never reclaim the man that I once was. I can never reclaim my pulse."

Throughout the monologue, images flashed behind the man's eyes. By the end, Feral was shaking, his eyes no longer looking at Kratos, but somewhere beyond him.

Kratos gazed at him with pity. His story was too farfetched to believe, but the reaction to the mere memory of the events in one such as Feral, especially since he was in the Full Moon, warranted that he should believe it. Feral refocused and looked at Kratos, the shaking subsiding as the memories faded. "If you desire, I can obtain a copy of my journal so you may read it," Feral offered.

"I think I would like to read that eventually, but not right now." Kratos told him.

"Very well, I will have it retrieved for you perusal upon your return, High King."

"Now, Kratos, do you still refuse to obey? I do not respond to disobedience from the start very well."

Kratos thought quickly. This place didn't sound like somewhere he wanted to go, but he couldn't do what this Summon Spirit was asking of him.

Xeralisk stretched out a hand, palm up. "You cannot disobey, Kratos Aurion. You are an Unborn, and your very existence is in my hands," he whispered. His voice rang with triumph at the inevitable answer. Xeralisk had absolute control of those he revived. He could tell them to kill their own brother and they would do it, albeit with reluctance. Few could ever break this control.

Kratos looked up, a desolate look upon his face. He took the hand offered to him. "I will do it."

Xeralisk's grimaced gleamed beneath his hood, the bleached-white teeth giving off a chilling light. "Excellent. Hema, erase his memory of the past few hours, we can't afford any slip-ups in this operation."

…...

It was a calm and peaceful day in Iselia. The village hadn't changed much in the last twenty years. However, it was true that nineteen Long years had passed since Lloyd Irving-Aurion and his new bride, Colette, had settled in the peaceful village of their youth. The building on the northwestern corner of the village, which had long been the dwelling place of Colette's family, had grown considerably. A small hut had been built nearby to house Noishe, the massive six-foot tall arshis. And since the birth of their son, Thomas Kratos Aurion, two years after they had married, rooms had to be added to accommodate the family's newest member.

"Hey Mom, is it alright if I go train with the Sages?" Thomas asked his mother as he finished doing the dishes.

Colette thought for a moment. "I don't mind if you do. Lloyd, what do you think?" the Chosen asked her husband.

"It's fine with me as long as you get back here by noon. Remember, we're going to go visit your grandpa today," he said as he headed to his workshop. Lloyd had become a woodcraftsman upon his return and he built a room specifically designed for his work.

Thomas grinned in a similar manner to his father's overexcited smile. "There's no way I'd forget that," He laughed as he put the last of the plates up and headed out the door. "I'll be back soon!"

The couple and their son went out to visit Dirk, Lloyd's foster father, every other week. Lloyd also went there to visit the grave of his mother. Thomas personally enjoyed visiting with the old dwarf, and was excited when he was given the Vorpal Sword by his grandfather on his fifteenth birthday. Thomas knew the old dwarf wasn't related to him by blood, he still loved the dwarf like as if he was a blood-relative.

Thomas took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. He always loved being outside. As he walked to Professor Raine's house, he watched the children playing all throughout the village. It was Saturday, the day when school was out and the kids had the whole day to themselves. A large dog-like creature with enormous ears padded up to him nudged his shoulder. "Good morning, Noishe. How are you?" he asked as he petted the protozoan, which howled in response. "Well, I'm going to go train with Sylfer and Sylvia, so you be good for Mom and Dad, okay?" Noishe howled once more and, satisfied, Thomas gave him one last rub on the head before heading off.

As he walked along, an older man working in the vineyard waved to him. "Morning, Thomas. How have you been?" he called.

"I've been good, Mr. Wilson. What about you?" Thomas responded, returning the gesture.

"Same old, same old. Aren't you and your parents planning on going to visit those Castagnier people soon?"

"Yep, we sure are. I hope the grape-picking goes better this year."

"You and I both, boy, you and I both."

Thomas continued down the path, humming slightly to himself. "Hey, Thomas!" a voice called to him. He turned to see a group of his classmates split into two groups with a soccer ball in the middle. "Come play soccer with us! We need an extra player!" the one who had caught his attention yelled.

"Sorry, Jim, I can't! I've already got plans!" He shouted back.

"Suit yourself!" Jim shouted as the two teams walked towards the outskirts of the village where the makeshift soccer field was.

Thomas knew the thing about needing another player was a lie. He had counted the teams and they were exactly even. He knew that all the adults just respected him because of his parents and not for who he was. The other kids just always wanted to include him because of a wondrous thing few could claim ownership of. In fact, Thomas knew of only three people with the ability to say it, including himself.

It was something that Thomas hated more than anything. It was the fact that Thomas was an angel.

His parents were both angels and had passed this trait onto him, granting him wings and other traits that made him something more than human. His angelic abilities had become apparent when Thomas was about five and he stayed up the entire night without his parents' knowledge. He went throughout the entire next day without any sleep at all and he didn't even feel tired. When he looked in a mirror at the end of the day, there weren't any bags under his eyes, which weren't bloodshot in the slightest. He told his parents about this, certain they would be amazed. Instead, to the young boy's alarm, they were worried.

They told Thomas about their being angels and explained a lot of things about them. They told him that he was also an angel, which surprised his parents because they thought that the trait wouldn't be hereditary. They could control the abilities of angels and trained their son to do this as well.

At first, Thomas was excited to learn this and soon after he had found out, the entire village knew. As Thomas grew older, he realized that many of his "friends" were just there to be able to say that they were friends with the son of Lloyd and Colette and who was an angel to boot! He began to doubt the motives of many people and became aloof, though he put on a façade of contentment, much like his mother would as she went through hard times.

This cynicism was the reason for the high level of maturity for his age and also why his closest friends were probably the children of his parents' companions from their past adventures, since he had known them long before he had found out about him being an angel. Luckily for him, Sylfer and Sylvia Sage, the twin children of Genis and Presea, were in town to visit their Aunt. Ironically, news of a new area of the Triet Ruins being discovered whisked her away faster than they could even think. Unfortunately, Genis, who was one of the top researchers at the Sybak Imperial Research Academy, was soon instructed to investigate these ruins as well, despite the fact that he was on vacation at the time. Presea and the Sage twins stayed behind in Iselia to catch up with the Aurions.

Thomas finally approached his destination to see a boy and a girl, both about fourteen-years old, waiting for him. Both had aqua blue eyes, which were perhaps the only traits they shared, other than their clothing.

"Hey you guys. You waiting for someone?" He called, waving.

"Yeah. We've been waiting for you for about five minutes. What took you so long?" the boy said as Thomas stopped at the top of the staircase that led up to their aunt's house.

"I didn't even tell you I was coming, Sylfer! How could you have been waiting for that long?" Thomas asked incredulously.

Sylfer wore black pants and a black button-up shirt with silver buttons, both of which were made out of a very rough-looking material. Half of his shirt was tucked in and half of it wasn't. He wore thick leather boots the color of silver. He held a large battleaxe at his side, using it like a cane while he waited. His hair, much to his embarrassment, was a bright pink, just like his mother's. He wore a silver bandana around his head to hide most of it, but there was always a few strands hanging in his face, waving in front of his eyes, mocking him. Despite the harassment of his friends and foes alike, he refused to cut it short enough that it would all fit under the bandana.

"You're clothing does tend to stand out, not to mention your hair. You're probably the only one who would go outside with a case of bed-head that bad," the girl chided.

Thomas rubbed the back of his head as he grinned sheepishly. "Is my hair really that bad, Sylvia?" he asked. Truth be told, she was right about the clothes and hair. His auburn hair went off to the side in clear evidence of sleep. He had bright blue eyes, the same color of his mother's. He wore a pair of amethyst colored traveler's pants along with a tunic the same shade of purple. Deep blue traveling boots poked their way from under the hem of his pants. The Vorpal Sword rested in its sheath at his side. But perhaps the most conspicuous thing about him was the bright blue scarf he always wore loosely wrapped around his neck.

"Yes! It looks like you were pinned down and licked by some giant dog."

"Well-" Thomas started.

"Not Noishe." Sylvia cut him off before he could go any further with that thought.

Sylvia, unlike her brother, had silver hair which cascaded around her shoulders. In it she had threaded a small branch of fresh sage, which was her favorite herb. And that wasn't just because it was her last name, either. She wore a long-sleeve dress that was as black as night and went down to her ankles. Her shoes were bright silver and the cuffs and hem of her dress was embroidered with a thread of the same color. A kendama was clipped to her side, the silver finish on the ball standing out in stark contrast to the black handle.

"Just face it, Thomas. You've got the most conspicuous hair in the village," Sylpher told him. Thomas gave him a mischievous smile.

"Other than your hair, of course. There's no way I could top that," he joked, smiling even wider at the look of rage on the younger boy's face.

"If it wasn't true that I've never beaten you, I'd so hurt you for that," Sylfer growled. Thomas laughed in response. Because Sylfer refused to cut his hair, Thomas thought that Sylfer secretly liked his hair color, but was too afraid of what people would think of him if he admitted it. Being a fourth-elf, he was already looked at oddly enough. Thomas knew that if he ever brought up the subject, Sylfer would flat out deny it. But it was still fun to tease him every once in a while.

"Speaking of never beating me, I'm assuming you guessed as to the reason I was coming." Thomas said, indicating the ax.

"Sure did! Now, let's go, Mr. Angel," Sylfer said cheerfully, walking past Thomas and heading towards the clearing where they trained. Thomas sent a glare that sent chills down most people's spines when he gave it to them at the back of Sylfer when he heard that dreaded nickname. Sylfer knew he hated the fact that he was an angel, and probably called him that to get back at making fun of his hair. Thomas sighed, deciding to condone the comment.

"Well, I guess this is what they call an eye-for-an-eye situation, Thomas. What you dished out you took in return," Sylvia said.

"Whatever. I'd used my angelic strength against him for that, but that would just be so ironic it would be painful."Thomas said as he turned to follow Sylfer. Sylvia giggled behind him.

"You really hate what you are that much, huh?" she asked.

"Yes! Mom and Dad stopped aging at about thirty, and they're almost forty now! Whenever some stranger comes through the town and sees me and my dad, he thinks we're brothers, not father and son! Do you know what that's like explaining your relation like that?"

"Well, Dad is a half-elf, so I kind of get where your coming from."

"Yeah, I know, but it's still not the same. You don't have to deal with controlling your abilities. If I lose my subconscious focus for even an instant, all the sounds around me are instantly amplified to the point where it hurts, everything I see becomes so distinct that I almost have a stroke from the sheer amount of information my brain has to suddenly process, I suddenly lose all sense of emotion, and what feels like enough force to pick up a fist-sized rock is actually enough to lift a really fat cow! Sure, the wings are great, and the not needing to eat is nice, along with not having to sleep, and even not feeling pain is a plus, but everybody thinks about those. Nobody ever realizes there are downsides to this stuff. "

By now, they had left the city; So Thomas's speech was heard only by Sylvia.

"Plus, there's the whole eternal youth thing. Everyone thinks it would be so great to live forever, to not have to worry about growing old. But it's not! Any friends you make will eventually grow old and die, leaving you with nothing to look forward to in life but death after death of someone you care about. Nobody ever considers that. They become too enamored by the positives that they don't even stop to think about the negatives. Nobody understands what it is like to be like this," Thomas ended with a sigh. He wore an expression of anger and sorrow, since he had dropped the mask that he wore in front of the village. Now, his true nature was showing, which was a gesture of genuine trust for Thomas. Only in the absolute company of his greatest friends did he let himself be himself.

Sylvia looked at him, sadness in her eyes. That might have been the fifth time she had heard that speech, but still it made her think. It was true, even she, who had been his friend for her whole life, often forgot about the negatives to the points of being an angel, and only looked at the positives. And, with Thomas being seventeen, and having an attention span that, in truth, rivaled that of his father's, he probably lost focus rather often. Right now, she didn't envy Thomas at all.

Now, one might not expect such forethought from the son of Lloyd, but Thomas was very different from his father. He believed that a lack of discipline in one area of your life led to a complete lack of discipline. So he made sure to take his studies as seriously as he took sword fighting. But, like his father, he took Astronomy especially seriously. He and his dad would always lay under the stars, his dad pointing out constellations and explaining their stories. Whenever Thomas looked up at the stars in the sky, Thomas felt slightly comforted, knowing that even if he were to live for the rest of eternity, those stars would shine on throughout it all, the only consistency in an ever changing world.

During Thomas's rant and the following bout of memories and deep thoughts, Sylfer had slowed down so they could catch up. Seeing the look on Thomas's face and the saddened expression of his sister, he already knew what had transpired. He felt a twinge of guilt and regretted calling Thomas "Mr. Angel". He knew how much being reminded of what he was angered him. It was far worse than when people made fun of him for his hair color. He'd have to apologize later.

…...

Sweat poured from Sylfer's body as he parried another quick blow from Thomas. Thomas's heavy breathing was accented by regular thrusts and slashes at his opponent. Sylvia stood off to the side, refereeing the spar session.

Thomas stumbled, giving Sylfer a clear shot as his back. Sylfer pressed his advantage, hoping to be able to beat the older teen for once.

It turned out to be a feint. Thomas elbowed Sylfer in the gut as Sylfer made to bring Thomas down with a swift blow to the back of the neck. Sylfer doubled over as he felt the wind get knocked out of him. AS he struggled to regain his breath, Thomas tapped his neck with the side of his blade. "Dead," he panted, the stupid grin on his face once more, though unlike when he was putting on his "mask" it reached his eyes.

"Thomas wins, again." Sylvia said. She had a mischievous smile on, though it escaped the notice of Thomas. Sylfer saw it and looked up at Thomas, regaining his breath.

"I guess that this is payback for calling you Mr. Angel, huh?" he asked, keeping Thomas's attention away from Sylvia.

"No, I provoked you, so the fault lies with me. I shouldn't have made fun of your hair color, even if it was in friendly banter. I know how much you 'hate' it." Thomas said in between gulps of air, offering a hand to his friend.

Sylfer accepted the hand and pulled himself up, still breathing heavily from the intense sparring from before. When Thomas sparred, he went all out and put his and his opponent's limits to the test. Sylfer had to admit, it was a great way to get stronger, though it was a little dangerous at times, since they practiced with real, very sharp weapons. Luckily, Sylvia had learned some healing magic in addition to offensive magic, so she could heal anything they got from the fights. It also gave her the opportunity to practice her magic.

"Yeah, but I still shouldn't have called you that. I know how much it irks you to be reminded of the fact. You hate it a lot more than I hate my hair, so it wasn't fair to get back at you like that. I'm sorry," Sylfer said, buying Sylvia a little more time while also getting his apology out of the way. Two birds, one stone.

"Hey, I already told you it's fine, so don't worry about it. If you apologize any more I'm going to have to compare you to my mom," Thomas joked, grinning widely.

"I just have one question."

"Shoot."

"Don't you feel a little hot?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

At that moment, a blue bucket appeared over Thomas's head and doused him in a small waterfall of icy cold water. When the spell faded, Thomas was left spluttering and shivering. He glanced over at Sylvia who waved, holding her kendama in one hand. Sylfer burst into laughter at the look of utter disbelief on Thomas's face.

"Oh my gosh, the look on your face! Hahaha! It's priceless! Hahahaha! I wish I had a camera!" He laughed, Sylvia joining him by giggling.

Thomas stood there, staring at her. Slowly, a grin of his own weaseled its way onto his face. "I was just thinking we should practice our magic casting," he said as he encased both of the twins' feet in ice. Sylfer gave a shout of surprise as he fell over while Sylvia squeaked at the sudden chill in the air.

"Hey, how come I got iced too, I didn't even do anything!" Sylfer protested.

"Yes you did. You distracted me so I couldn't sense the mana being manipulated for that spell. You're just as guilty as Sylvia." Thomas said.

Sylfer just sighed in defeat as Sylvia cast a fire spell to melt the ice imprisoning them.

"So, this is where you go to train," a familiar voice from the edge of the clearing said. All three teenagers jumped in surprise and turned to see Lloyd, Colette, and Presea standing at the edge of the clearing. Lloyd was looking around, examining the area. It was wide enough for a fight without too many things to interfere and there was a small stream flowing nearby so they had plenty of water. "If I had known there was a place like this, I would've taken Thomas here when we trained together," Lloyd continued.

Colette walked up to them, her angelic smile shining brightly on her face. "We figured that it would be better for us to come find you than for you to go back to the house. So we went to see Presea and she told us that you three went somewhere else to train. Lloyd followed your mana signature and here we are. Umm, honey, why are you all wet?" she asked curiously. This sent another round of laughter rippling through the three friends, leaving their parents completely clueless.

"It's a long story, Mom. Anyway, why is Mrs. Sage here?" Thomas asked as the laughter died down.

"Oh, we invited her to come to Dirk's with us. I figured that she and Sylfer and Sylvia could come with us, since Genis and Professor Sage are out of town and they didn't have anything else to do." She said, smiling brightly.

"You mean we finally get to meet Dirk?" Sylvia asked, hope shining in her eyes.

"Yes, you do. You have to remember that Dirk is a dwarf, though. He probably won't be what you expect." Presea told her children.

"Sweet!" Sylfer said, seemingly oblivious to his mother's words.

Presea sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

"All parents around the world are with you, Presea, including us." Lloyd said, patting her on the shoulder. He tossed a pack to Thomas, who caught it out of sheer reflex. "I put your books in there. I still don't get why you insist on bringing your homework over there," Lloyd told his son, shaking his head.

Thomas smiled as he put the pack around his shoulders. "I've explained it time and again, Dad. You just can't understand it."

"Come on, I wanna meet Thomas's grandpa!" Sylfer urged, practically bouncing in his eagerness to be off.

"All right, everyone, let's go!" Lloyd said, taking the lead.

…...

They had reached Dirk's house around three. The introductions with Dirk went well and everything was fine. Lloyd said hello to his mother, and Thomas pretended to say hi, but really just sat there wondering why that sword was sitting in a stand over the grave.

It was in the shape of a flame and it had been placed in a golden sheath to match the handle. When Thomas touched it, it felt warm, but he never did remove it from its sheath. His dad said it was the Flamberge, his grandfather's sword. His _real_ grandfather's sword.

They had sat down to eat dinner when someone knocked on the door.

"Now who could tha' be, knockin' at this hour?" Dirk asked as he rose from the crowded table. "I'll be jus' a minute." He told them as he walked over to the door. He opened it to find a man who, quite frankly, looked like a demon.

"Is Lloyd Irving-Aurion here?" He growled in a rough voice. He wore black and an odd shade of brown. His eyes were black and the whites were actually a deep red. In one hand he carried a scythe that looked like it had been raised from Neiflheim itself and in the other he clasped the back of someone's collar over his shoulder. Dirk couldn't see who it was, but he pitied the man.

The mere sight of this… creature, for there was no way it could be human, froze Dirk to the bit of land that he was standing on. Everyone in the building immediately glued their eyes on him, all of them, except Presea, sensing his bizarre mana. Lloyd stood and hesitantly walked to the door.

"I'm Lloyd. Do you have some business with me?" he asked tentatively, fearing this being at the door.

The _creature_ said nothing and roughly tossed the person he was carrying onto the floor. "I have come to return him to his rightful place." He said, turning around and walking away.

Lloyd stared at the man lying on the floor in disbelief. "There's no way…" he whispered.

Everyone else in the room saw the man clearly. Colette and Presea gasped, while Thomas, Sylfer, and Sylvia just looked at him in confusion. He had auburn hair which went every which way. He wore a purple swallow-tail cloak over a purple vest. Purple traveling pants trailed onto the purple boots, well-worn with many years of being worn. He wore fingerless purple gloves which stretched so far up his arm they were almost sleeves.

Thomas's gaze flicked immediately to the man's hair. It was the same shade as his. Thomas had a feeling that in about ten years, he would look a lot like this man. Thomas knew in an instant, that he and this man were related.

Lloyd carefully picked the man up, carrying him over to the stairs. Lloyd looked over to Thomas. "Thomas, come help me pick him up." He beckoned. Thomas got up and talked over, lifting the man's legs while Lloyd lifted his head. Thomas almost dropped him in surprise, finding that the man was much heavier than he looked. He must wear armor underneath that getup. "We're taking him upstairs, alright?" Thomas nodded and they carefully navigated their way up the stairs and set the mystery man down on the bed.

"Thomas."

Thomas turned to look at his father. Lloyd wore the most serious expression that Thomas had ever seen on the cheery swordsman's face. "I know you have a lot of questions, but before we can answer them, he needs to wake up first. As soon as he wakes up, those questions will be answered." Lloyd said, putting his hand on his son's shoulder. Lloyd gave one last look at the man lying on the bed the headed downstairs.

"Hmm, Dad sounded more like he was telling himself that than telling it to me. I think I know who this guy is," Thomas said to himself, casting one last glance at the unconscious man on the bed before heading back downstairs to join the others for dinner.

They ate dinner in silence, the appearance of the _creature_ and the strange man killing any and all conversations that may have been started. Thomas ate quickly and headed upstairs where he knew he and the twins would be spending the night. He opened his pack and pulled out his homework, putting it on the nearby desk and getting ready for a long night. About an hour later, a tired Sylvia and an already half-asleep Sylfer made their way upstairs.

Sylvia took one look at Thomas and shook her head. "You're doing homework at this hour? Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?" she asked.

"I don't need to sleep." He responded, the scribbling of his pencil not slowing in the slightest. "If I'm going to wait for him to wake up, I might as well make use of my time."

"You can't seriously be thinking of staying up all night just to ask the guy if he's your grandpa or not." Sylfer mumbled, trudging his way to his bed.

"There are more questions than that, Sylfer. I want to know why he decides to appear now, where he's been, and so many other things. I just can't let Dad be the first one to ask him questions, otherwise some of my questions may never be answered. I doubt you'd be able to understand." Snoring was Sylfer's response. Thomas turned and stared at his friend. "Wow, that's gotta be a new record for him. He didn't even bother un-tucking the other half of his shirt."

Sylvia just rolled her eyes at Thomas as she slipped into bed herself, already in her nightgown. "Just be sure not to let your dad catch to staking out the guy's awakening. He'd probably kill you." She warned with a yawn. She curled up and quickly joined her brother in dreamland.

Thomas turned to look at the man lying in the fourth bed. "Just who are you?" He asked, knowing he would not receive an answer. He turned back to his homework. He sighed as he met a particularly difficult Trigonometry problem. "Dang it, couldn't they have waited to fall asleep so they could at least help me with this problem?" he whined quietly while he hunkered down to try and solve it.

…...

Kratos slowly regained consciousness. He grunted as he sat up, surprised to find himself in a bed. The last thing he remembered was… was it Welgaia coming under attack? Yes, that was it. But, why was he in a bed, then? He opened his eyes and quickly shut them as the swimming visions before him made him dizzy.

"Oh, you're finally awake," an unfamiliar, yet somehow familiar voice said.

Kratos cast a quick healing spell on himself to help speed at which full-consciousness returned. He opened his eyes, satisfied with the stability of his vision.

"Dammit, I don't get this problem!" the same voice cursed. Kratos turned to see a younger version of… himself. No, this boy's eyes were blue and he looked a lot like Lloyd, but the resemblance was still uncanny. He was bent over a math book, pencil in one hand, head in the other as he mulled over some problem.

Kratos stood and walked over to him. He saw the problem he was working on and quickly saw what the boy should do. "Try turning cotangent x into cosine x over sine x." Kratos advised.

The boy looked up at him listlessly before returning to the problem. His head shot up. "Of course! Then I do this and move that here… It works! Thank you." The boy said excitedly, scribbling down the answer. He then closed the book and put down his pencil and turned in the chair to face the Seraph. "You're a lot more help in Trig than Mom and Dad are, that's for sure," he joked.

"…" Kratos said nothing. The boy just looked at Kratos while Kratos looked at him.

"So, what's your name?" Thomas asked, breaking the silence.

"I am Kratos Aurion." they boys face widened in a grin so similar to Lloyd's that it was obvious who his father was, if it wasn't already.

"I knew it," He said in triumph. "You can call me Thomas. As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm Lloyd's son. Now, I have another question for you. Are you an angel?"

Kratos found this an odd question. Did Lloyd say nothing about him to his grandson? "Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"

"Just so I would now if I should bring the count up to four. I had a feeling you were, since your Lloyd's dad and you look as old as he does. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions."

Kratos raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think Lloyd's my son?" Kratos asked. He had said nothing of the sort, and there was no evidence that he was Lloyd's father.

"Well, the way Dad acted when he saw you and also, I just had this feeling. I've been doing homework all night waiting for you to wake up."

"Sleep isn't something you should miss just to ask someone a few questions," Kratos said sternly.

Thomas just sighed, an apathetic look entering his eyes. "I'm an angel, if I don't want to sleep, I can get rid of the need." He said, his voice almost dripping with venom. Kratos raised his eyebrows. Was it really that bad for the kid?

Thomas shook his head and returned his attention to Kratos. "Now, one last question. Why did Dad tell me next to nothing about you?"

"… I don't know. I plan on asking him myself," Kratos said with complete seriousness.

"Oh, I see." Thomas said, disappointed. He was about to ask where the man had been all this time when the voice he was dreading came from the staircase.

"Thomas, why are you still up?" his father demanded, looking angrily at his son.

Thomas pointed to his math book. "I was doing my homework when this guy woke up. He helped me a little. That's all." He said quickly. He then stood up and walked over to the staircase.

"Now where do you think you're going?" Lloyd asked, standing in front of Thomas.

"Outside. I figured you'd want to be alone to talk with Grandpa." Thomas answered, unfazed by his father's wrath. Lloyd was so surprised to hear Thomas call Kratos this that he barely even noticed when Thomas walked around him and went down the stair. Lloyd sighed as he pulled out the Flamberge from behind his back.

"Well, Dad, first I should give you your sword back." Lloyd said as he walked over to Kratos and handed him the Flamberge. Kratos took it and unbelted the sword he had been using instead of the Flamberge and replaced it with the Flamberge. It was comforting to have its familiar warmth by his side once again.

"Thank you, Lloyd." He said. If he could, Kratos would probably be crying from happiness. Lloyd had called him "Dad" for the second time in his life since they were separated.

"No problem. Now, I see you've already met Thomas. Remind me to punish him for staying up this late tomorrow." Kratos chuckled at this. "What's so funny?" Lloyd asked.

"I left for twenty -two years and you've matured so much. Now, before you ask me any questions, I have one important one for you."

Lloyd paled slightly. "It's about why Thomas knows almost nothing about you, isn't it." Lloyd stated. Kratos nodded in response. Lloyd took a deep breath. "Well, I figured that if I told Thomas all about you, he'd want to meet you more than anything. But I knew, no, thought, that you would never come back to this planet, so, I decided it was best for him to know as little as possible. He doesn't know anything about Cruxis or any of that, so we'll have to explain it all to him in the morning."

Kratos nodded in understanding. He was just glad to be back, even though he had no clue how he got back in the first place.

"So, how did you get back?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos closed his eyes, thinking deeply, trying to remember. "I'm not sure… the last thing I remember before waking up here is that Welgaia came under attack. By who are what, I do not know."

Lloyd nodded. "Okay. Now's not the best time to catch up, so we'll do it in the morning. G'night, Dad." Lloyd stood up and went back downstairs, leaving Kratos to his thoughts. Kratos looked out the window, at the stars. He recalled the venom with which Thomas said he was an angel. It was possible, very possible, that he knew the full weight of an angel's curse. Kratos sighed sadly before returning to the bed he had woken up in. despite being asleep for so long, he felt exhausted. Kratos smiled. He had already returned to the habit of becoming human around Lloyd.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**You know, before I wrote this chapter, I never thought about the downsides of being an angel either.**_

_**Thomas: See? That is EXACTLY what I mean when I say nobody ever thinks about the downsides. **_

_**Well, if I hadn't, you'd have never said any of that stuff.**_

_**Thomas: I know, but still, you just helped to prove my point even more.**_

_**Yeah, I know. **_

_**Thomas: and plus, I bet every reader's thoughts when they read that monologue went something like "Wow, I've never thought of it that way before." I mean-**_

_**Just go look at your stars, Thomas. We get that you're passionate about this. **_

_**Thomas: Sorry, I get carried away really easily on this subject.**_

_**Yeah, I know. Sorry about throwing the Trig stuff in there for those of you who don't understand a word of it. It doesn't really matter in any way to the story; I just wanted Kratos to seem fatherly for once. Or since it's his grandson, grandfatherly. **_

_**If you have any comments or thoughts about ways to improve my writing, or want to tell me my writing is fine as is, or just want to say hi, review. Don't really just say hi in your review though, because I'll probably give you a long-winded speech on how that isn't a review in response to it. Scratch that, I WILL give you a speech in response to that. You can say hello in addition to other stuff, though. **_


	4. Chapter 4:The Heretic's Magic

_**I've had so many ingenious ideas for the future of this story. Ideas of a genius so pure and powerful that it will totally warp the path this story will take with the addition of something very simple. I need to get the story to move on so I may set these things in motion, but I refuse to rush things. But it's so painful to waaiiit! **_

_**Sylpher: Patience is a virtue.**_

_**You're right, Sylpher, it is. But it's also a virtue that I don't have. **_

_**Sylpher: Ah, I see the dilemma.**_

_**Yeah. Oh, another stroke of genius! I am impressed with my thoughts. But it is a mixed blessing.**_

_**Sylpher: How?**_

_**Because, this genius was at a major point far into the story. I HAVE TO WAIT LONGER TO BE ABLE TO PUT IT INTO WRITTEN WORD! Meanwhile it is clawing at my brain, demanding release into the world of text. And I cannot obey its commands. MY MIND! IT BUUUUUURRRRNNSSSSS!**_

_**Sylpher: … I think you need to see a psychiatrist. **_

_**No thanks. I'm already seeing one. He's nice. **_

_**Sylpher: isn't he the guy that subscribes your ADHD and allergy medicine?**_

… _**Maybe.**_

_**Sylpher: so you don't see him for your mental state.**_

_**Well, not directly.**_

_**Sylpher: I suggest that you see a psychiatrist for that.**_

_**Pfft! Yeah right.**_

_**Anonymous review responses:**_

_**No anonymous reviews to date. **_

_**Just so you people who are unfamiliar with this system know, an 'anonymous' review is one given by someone who doesn't have an account on the site. **_

_**Sylpher: so even if you don't have an account, you can review. **_

_**By the way, I discovered something about myself recently. I'm a huge hypocrite! I claim that I don't care about reviews, but then I demand certain things be met for the reviews that are given. That is extremely hypocritical of me! **_

_**So, in other words, review if you want, tell me whatever, I don't care. I'm just warning you now if you give me a short review I'll give you a short response. And thus, my hypocrisy is ended. I'm also removing all things relating to my demands for reviews from previous chapters, so if you're just starting with this story then you probably have no idea what I'm talking about right now.**_

_**Sylpher: Now, you said you've been having great ideas, right?**_

_**Yes, I did.**_

_**Sylpher: If that's the case, then why did it take you over three weeks to write this chapter instead of the promised one week?**_

_**Because common logic and sense is something that I do not possess and as a result my mind and life are rather jacked up.**_

_**Sylpher: … Okay I can't argue with you there, but that's not a reason to delay this chapter that much.**_

_**Okay fine! I was having trouble with a few scenes and I was reverting to my lazy old self and blah blah blah! Are you happy?**_

_**Sylpher: Who said that would make me happy?**_

_**(twitch) I'm going to start the chapter before something very bad happens.**_

Chapter 4: The Heretic's Magic

"Damn it, Sylpher! WAKE UP ALREADY!" Thomas screamed at the top of his lungs in Sylpher's ear. Sylpher just mumbled in his sleep and turned over. A steaming Thomas glared at the boy in rage. He then heaved a big sigh and let his anger die down. "Forget it, he can just miss the explanations," he said in defeat, turning to walk downstairs.

In his frustration, he almost bowled right into Sylvia, who had come up to help him wake her brother up. "Whoa! Sorry about that Sylvia. You know, you're brother can sleep through a hurricane. How do you get him up?" Thomas asked, exasperated.

Sylvia smiled that cat-like smile she always had when she was about to do something mean. "There's a secret. Let me show you." She walked briskly around Thomas and stopped by her sleeping brother. She turned back to Thomas. "Well, come on!" she said, beckoning him with her hand.

Thomas sighed as he moved to stand next to her. Sylvia gave that cat-smile again and leaned in close to Sylpher's ear. She whispered something softly and the effect was instantaneous.

Sylpher jumped out of bed, doing an odd dance and smacking and brushing himself as if he was covered in something. "Oh gods, get them off me! Get them _off_ me!" he shouted before realizing that there was nothing on him. He slowly turned to see Sylvia just smiling innocently while Thomas had his mouth covered to hide the smile and help hold down the laughter. Sylpher slowly turned his gaze back to his sister, a glare forming. "I hate you, sis."

"That's not very nice. What did I do to merit that?" Sylvia asked, an air of sweet innocence pervading her. Sylpher just continued glaring at her.

"What did you say to him?" Thomas whispered to Sylvia between bouts of laughter threatening to erupt from his throat.

"I told him he was covered in spiders. He has a 'small' case of arachnophobia," she whispered back, not losing her innocent air for even a moment. "It's the only way to wake him up before noon on the weekends."

Thomas chuckled at this information. Thomas didn't know that, and he had known Sylpher for almost his entire life. You think you know a guy.

Sylpher continued glaring at his twin for a while before sighing. "So, since you wanted to wake me up that badly, I might as well be told what's going on," he said.

"Well, I've been trying to wake you up for the past five minutes so you could listen to my grandpa's explanations of various things. Presea must have figured out what was keeping me so she sent Sylvia up here to help, even though she did all the work. I just enjoyed the show," Thomas snickered.

Sylpher turned his glare to Thomas, who turned around and walked downstairs in response. He was followed closely by Sylvia. After giving a sigh, Sylpher followed them down.

Downstairs, the others waited patiently for the teens to join them. When everyone was there, they all turned to Kratos.

"For the benefit of the kids, you should probably explain everything from the start," Lloyd said.

Kratos nodded. "First, for the few that don't know me, I am Kratos Aurion. I am Lloyd's biological father."

Sylpher and Sylvia looked at each other, eyebrows raised. "Wow, when I said I wanted to meet Thomas's grandpa, I didn't think I'd get to meet his real grandpa," Sylpher said.

"Life's funny that way," Sylvia answered.

"Moving on," Kratos said, returning the twins' attention to him, "I'm sure you've heard the tales of Mithos the Hero."

"Yeah, we have, but something tells me that there's more to the story," Thomas said.

"You would be correct to assume that, Thomas. But first, I think it is important that you know that I am the one who trained Mithos in the way of the sword and was one of his companions on his journey."

All three teens' mouths fell to the floor. "T-then you're…" Sylpher stammered.

"Over f-four t-thousand years old?" Sylvia finished.

Thomas closed his eyes, as if he had a head ache. "When I asked him if he was an angel, I wasn't expecting someone as old as dirt," he muttered.

Unfazed by their reactions, Kratos continued. "Cruxis, the organization of angels that the Church of Martel reveres as holy beings, was in fact created by the fallen hero, Mithos. He had split the world in two after the withering of the Giant Kharlan Tree using the Eternal Sword to prevent its destruction. He grew mad from the power he was wielding and sought to eliminate discrimination by making everyone a Lifeless Being, which is what most of the angels are. He did this in a twisted perception of the final wish of his sister, Martel, which was for there to be a world without discrimination.

"Also, he created a ritual to 'regenerate the world' by having a Chosen of Regeneration break the seals where the summon spirits slept on one of the two worlds and become an angel herself and then serve as the vessel for Martel's spirit. That is how Colette became an angel.

"I was the one who was in charge of making sure that the Chosen did not stray from her path in becoming a vessel for Mithos's sister. It was at the beginning of this journey were I met Lloyd for the first time in fourteen years.

"At the end of the journey, I betrayed them to Cruxis, though I despised myself while doing it. Because I could not deliver the killing blows, Mithos descended and fought the group. He was just about to kill them when the Renegades saved them, to my relief.

"Afterwards, I began to search Tethe'alla for the material necessary to forge the Ring of the Pact, which would allow a human to wield the Eternal Sword.

"Eventually, Lloyd discovered that I am his real father and my life acted as a seal upon Origin, preventing anyone from forging a pact with him and gaining the power of the Eternal Sword. Lloyd fought me alone, by his own insistence, and defeated me. It was necessary that I die so that Origin could be summoned, since there was a seal upon him that was based on my life. I was revived directly afterwards, however and continued to live. Lloyd made the pact with Origin and Dirk forged the Ring of the Pact making it possible for him to wield the Eternal Sword.

"After Mithos was defeated and the world had been restored, I went to the comet Derris-Kharlan, the main base of Cruxis, to lead what was left of the organization as it drifted throughout the stars, as my self-inflicted punishment for the sins I had done," Kratos finished his long story, his face a stony mask throughout it.

The three were speechless. There wasn't much that could be said to that. Sylvia and Sylpher turned to Thomas, who had been silent throughout the story, the same expression on his face. Thomas looked at Kratos critically. Kratos returned the gaze.

After a few tense moments, Thomas sighed. "So, let me get this straight," He said, leaning back in his chair, "You were one of Mithos's closest friends and you helped him with Cruxis for around four thousand years. You watched as the worlds were split and thousands upon thousands of people were killed pointlessly in an attempt to revive his dead sister. Roughly forty years ago, you met grandma and a while later, Dad was born. Three years after that, something happened and Mom died while you vanished and Dad was left in the care of Grandpa Dirk. Then, twenty-two years ago, you pretended to be a mercenary and spied on Dad's group as they made their way around Sylvarant, performing a ritual which would take Mom's life at the end. All that time you knew that Dad was your son. I've got it right so far, don't I?"

With each word, Thomas's voice grew colder and colder. Lloyd let out a sad sigh. He knew where this was going. He was hoping this wouldn't have happened.

"Then, at the end of the journey, you betray your only son and nearly kill him. When your boss shows up, you don't even raise a finger to help him. Instead, the Renegades save him and Mom and everyone else from certain death. You then only made appearances occasionally, shirking your duties with Cruxis to find materials to forge the Ring of the Pact so a human could use the Eternal Sword. Sure, you helped the group by telling them where to go from time to time, but that was it. Finally, you made your only son fight you to the death. I know that he insisted that it be one-on-one, but still. You knew that if he lost, he would die, and you were willing to risk that." Thomas fixed Kratos with a cold stare, reminiscent of Kratos's own. "From what I understand, all the wrong things you've done outweigh the good by far."

"Thomas, stop it. Kratos went on Derris-Kharlan because he felt guilty about everything he did. I don't think you should make him feel any worse than he already does." Colette told her son.

"You're asking me to trust a man who did all sorts of things that many would have refused to do, a man whom I've known for not even a day, just because he's my grandfather and he regrets his decisions. I see no reason to trust him. I don't care if he regrets his actions enough that he would willingly commit suicide. This man is not my grandfather." The atmosphere in the room had become chilling. Thomas stood and walked towards the door. "I'll be outside."

"Thomas, wait!"Colette called after him as the door shut. She got up to chase after he son.

"Let him be, Colette," Lloyd said. Everyone turned to Lloyd curiously. "I know what it must feel like for Thomas while he's going through this. When I first found out Kratos was my dad, remember how I flat out denied the truth? I didn't want someone like him to be my father. For Thomas, this is the first time that he's met Kratos. To find out that the man you've wanted to meet for so long has done terrible things in the past, it would be devastating. I think the best thing for him right now is to sort it out on his own. We can't force him to trust Kratos. He'll come around eventually."

"Lloyd is right; Thomas will eventually accept the fact that he and I are related. After all, he's a smart kid. He can't reject reality forever," Kratos said.

"Now, putting aside Thomas for now, please explain how you managed to return, Kratos," Presea said.

Kratos closed his eyes and bowed his head. "To be honest, I do not recall how it was that I ended up here. Everything was proceeding as usual, when I was informed that Welgaia was under attack. The next thing I remember is me waking up to Thomas doing homework in the middle of the night."

"Do you remember anything about the man that brought you here?" Colette asked.

"… I cannot say I know of whom you speak," Kratos told her.

"He was of average height and wore a beer-bottle brown shirt with two black sashes across his chest. He wore black pants and a black cape as well. His boots and hair were the same color as his shirt," Presea reported, hoping to jog the Seraph's memory.

Kratos shook his head. "I do not recall meeting such a man. But, I can faintly recall a figure. It's blurry, but I remember him being bald with extremely pale skin. He wore a black cloak… That's all I can remember. It would seem something happened and my memory of the event has faded."

"I see. Well, I suppose we should just be glad that you're back," Lloyd said, getting up. "Now, we should probably fill you in on everything that's happened since you left on Derris-Kharlan."

"I'm going outside too. I don't want a history lesson. Having one with Aunt Raine makes one very wary of such things," Sylpher said, as he headed towards the door.

Sylvia quickly caught up to him. "Don't leave me behind!" she practically yelled at him.

* * *

Thomas did a loop as he flew in circles around Dirk's house. Flying always helped him relax. It was one of the greater benefits of the angelic being. The feeling of nothing supporting you but yourself as you rushed through the skies by your own power… Not even riding a Rheiard could compare to that experience.

He had gotten worked up enough that the focus required to keep his angelic abilities in check had slipped. He just couldn't understand how his parents, who knew what that man had done, had even experienced it themselves, could possibly trust him. It was obvious they did.

He let out a deep breath and landed, pulling in his auburn wings. He felt the constraints of his focus return as his vision became much plainer and his sense of hearing diminished. He sighed once more as he walked to his grandmother's grave and sat down. "Why was I cursed this way?" he asked no one in particular.

"Because you always look at the negatives and you never think of the positives," a familiar voice joked. Thomas turned to see Sylpher and Sylvia walking towards him. "And because fate likes to toy with you," Sylpher continued.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Since when is logical thinking called pessimism?" he asked.

"Since about thirty-nine years ago," Sylvia said.

"What happened then?"

"Your dad was born." All three laughed at that.

"So why did you guys come out here?" Thomas asked.

"They're explaining to your grand-" Thomas shot Sylpher a glare, making him rethink using that word "-um, I mean, Kratos, about the stuff with Ratatosk and other things. Boring history lessons that Aunt Raine would probably make us go mad with the amount of detail in it."

Thomas nodded. "I see. And what's the other reason?"

"What makes you think there's another reason?" Sylpher asked, shocked.

"I've known you two for most of my life. If I didn't know that there was some ulterior motive, then I would be ashamed to call myself your friend."

"Well, he's got us there," Sylvia said. Both twins sighed.

"So, c'mon, spit it out. Why are you really here?" Thomas prodded.

"Well, we think you were being pretty harsh on Kratos," Sylpher started.

"Yeah, I mean, he did spend twenty-two years of virtual isolation because of what he did. You have got to remember, the angels of Welgaia weren't the best people to talk to, from the way Kratos described them," Sylvia finished.

"And your point is?" Thomas asked, putting his hands behind his head.

"Thomas, you're a smart guy. You don't need us to elaborate on that. Even a five-year old would have understood it," Sylvia said.

"I know you're trying to tell me that I should take that as retribution for his sins. But that's not really trying to make up for what he did," Thomas told them.

"Um, okay then. If damning yourself to a hell of isolation with no one to keep you company but a bunch of unthinking, unfeeling bird brains isn't retribution, then what is?"

"Staying with the people you sinned against and working as hard as you can to make up for them," Thomas said flatly. "To go off on a comet and leave everything and everyone that you ever hurt or betrayed behind is irresponsible and completely cowardly. It is running away from the things you did, not making up for them, no matter how torturous the road."

"Dammit Thomas, you're going to become a philosopher at this rate," Sylpher said.

"Well, I guess I did get Dad's uncanny ability to have epiphanies at random points in time," Thomas said with a laugh.

"What do you mean 'random'? You have one at least twice a day!" Sylvia shouted.

"It's not like I plan them," Thomas told her.

"Hey, guys, it doesn't matter. Thomas, I know you're not telling us something. If there's a good reason why you don't trust Kratos, then let us know. If you don't, then we will never stop badgering you about it," Sylpher said.

Thomas closed his eyes and sighed. "At first, it was because of the things we've talked about. Now, it's because the circumstances of his reappearance are too suspicious."

"What do you mean-" Sylvia began

"I had been flying to relieve my stress. I had angelic hearing at the time so I've heard everything else. He doesn't remember how he got here. There are either two possible reasons as to why this is. Either he _will_ not remember, or he _can't_ remember. If it's the first one, then that means he is hiding something, which means that he cannot be trusted. If it's the latter, then that means that either something happened to his memory – maybe he hit his head or something – or someone won't let him remember, in which case he really can't be trusted. It may seem harsh and unnecessary, but at least one of us has to think cautiously rather than take everything at its face value," Thomas told them grimly.

The twins stared at him in shock. "Damn, Thomas. It makes perfect sense, but still… just damn." Sylpher breathed.

"You're probably the only one of us cynical enough to think of that possibility," Sylvia told him.

"No thanks are necessary," Thomas shrugged.

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Hey you three," Lloyd called out at them. "Everyone's getting ready to go. Go get your stuff packed."

"Coming!" Thomas said. He stood and the three friends quickly walked inside and upstairs to pack their things.

* * *

It was late afternoon as they approached the gates to the village. A tall elven man wearing a crimson cloak that covered his body from head to toe was arguing with the guards. The sleeves were even long enough to hide his hands from sight.

"Explain to me again why you can't lead me to the people I wish to meet," He commanded. His voice was vibrant and full of childish energy, as if the owner was exultant in the fact that he lived.

"Well, before I couldn't because I didn't know where they were. Now, I can't because they're standing behind you," the guard answered, pointing behind the man. He turned around. The hood hid most of his features but the bottom of his chin was still visible. It was pale, almost like a skeleton. On his chest, he wore a symbol that was unfamiliar to everyone in the group. It was completely black, leaving only the vague outline of a grave with a skeletal hand reaching from it.

"Ah, I see. I have some questions for the Heroes of Regeneration," he said, approaching Lloyd and Colette. "I have heard in my travels that long ago, you came across a book called the Necrimonicon. I would like to know anything about this book that you may know."

Sylpher crossed his arms and looked at the elf skeptically. "You know, most people consider it rude to start demanding things from someone when you haven't even introduced yourself," he said.

The mysterious man dipped his head in apology. "Of course, you are right. But I have been known by many names and titles, so I'm not sure which one to use." He pondered the problem for a moment. "I think it would be best if you called me Heretic Bios, Leader of Samael's Disciples."

"That is an unusual name, not to mention an ominous title and obscure group that is associated with it," Presea said, narrowing her eyes, "How can we trust you?"

Heretic Bios chuckled a little. "I am commonly referred to as Heretic by the Church of Martel, since I believe it is wrong. I believe in gods other than the Goddess Martel, and reject her existence all together. And so, the Church calls me Heretic. As for Bios, it holds a special meaning to me and Samael's Disciples is the organization – which is very small currently – that I am in charge of that shares my views. To make it simple for you, just call me Bios. Now, about those questions…" Bios pried.

"How do we know your reasons for seeking such knowledge are just? That book contains spells and curses that are an affront to life itself," Kratos told him.

"I believe that it may also contain information which may help prove the existence of at least one of my gods. Unless I show proof, none of these people will believe me," Bios said, a hint of melancholy tainting the last sentence.

"Well, I don't see a reason not to help you. We'll answer them later. But first, please come with us to our house. We've just gotten back and we'd like to rest," Lloyd said.

"I understand. Please, lead the way." He fell in line at the back.

As they made their way home, Presea, Sylpher, and Sylvia broke off to head back to the Sage's home. Bios seemed about to protest, but Presea assured him that she would return after she and her kids unpacked their things. With this, Bios fell silent and continued behind the Aurions.

Upon reaching the house, Bios was told to make himself at home and Colette set about preparing dinner. Lloyd sat down across from Bios while Kratos, who wanted to keep an eye on the elf, sat nearby.

"Now, about the Necrimonicon…" Bios began.

"Well, to be honest, we never actually got a look at what was inside the book. I remember the Professor saying something about it containing dark spells and we actually saw one of those spells used," Lloyd told him.

"I see. Which spell would that be?"

"Well, it was a spell to revive the dead. It's a long story, but basically, we were tricked into gathering nine cursed weapons and the man who tricked us revived the Dark Lord Nebilim afterwards and we managed to kill him, preventing Nebilim from basically destroying everything."

Bios seemed practically giddy. "Excellent. Do you know where the book is now? I've been searching for that book for my entire life!" He exclaimed.

Lloyd looked down, unable to look the man in the eye after hearing that. "Well, after we defeated Nebilim, we kind of… burned the book."

"You did what?" Bios deadpanned.

"That book contained spells and other magic that is better left lost to this world. They did the right thing in burning it," Kratos said.

Bios sighed. "Do you know all of the kinds of spells that were contained in that book?" he asked.

At that moment, Presea walked in the door, her children in tow. "Pardon us if we're interrupting. You said you had wanted to speak with me as well." Presea said as she took a seat next to Lloyd. Bios turned to face her while Sylpher and Sylvia went upstairs, looking for Thomas.

"I have just been informed that the Necrimonicon was burned. If this is true, then I must ask you if you know of the spells that had been written in the book," Bios explained briefly.

"I cannot say I knew much more than that it contained dark spells that were best forgotten," Presea said.

"And we may have seen a powerful spell used from it, but I'm certain that there were far more dangerous spells. It needed to be destroyed. Surely you can understand that," Lloyd said, trying to calm Bios. Kratos merely continued to watch the robed elf like a hawk.

Everyone could practically feel the man's vengeful glare burning beneath the hood of his robe. "I know of the spells you ask of," Kratos said, drawing the wrathful gaze to him. Kratos met it with his own death-glare. "It contained spells which called back the spirits of those who had left the world; that much is true. But it also harbored incantations which could give unnatural life to a fallen corpse between its pages," Kratos reported, his eyes never leaving the man.

Bios nodded, some of his rage seeming to die down. "That's a complicated way of saying it, but yes. To put it more simply, it was an instruction manual in the art of Necromancy."

"Neck-row-man-see?" Lloyd stuttered, stumbling over the unfamiliar term.

"Necromancy is more commonly known as the Magic of the Dead. That name, however, leads to a misconception. It would be easier to show you rather than explain." Bios pulled from his cloak the carcass of a rabbit and threw it on the table.

Lloyd stared at it skeptically. "And you carry a dead rabbit with you why?" He asked.

Ignoring the question, Bios lifted his thumb to his mouth and bit down, drawing blood. Chanting in an unfamiliar language, Bios allowed a single drop of blood to fall upon the dead rabbit.

The rabbit began to shake and shiver as bizarre cracking sounds emitted from it. Lloyd backed up in his chair, Presea yelped in surprise, and Colette gasped, forgetting her cooking, as what looked like a sword made out of bone forced its way through the creature's stomach. It was followed by an upper arm covered in exposed muscle and a body similar to the arm with a vague humanoid shape finally emerged. The head was in the middle of the torso and was twisted so that it looked more like a slab of bone with an oval cut in it to show a mouth. Muscle covered every part of its body. It had two legs and thin slabs of muscle that could only have been feet. It only had one arm, the arm that had a sword on the end. The muscular build was focused on that appendage, giving the creature a lopsided stance.

The skin of the rabbit folded in on itself, making it clear that the creature was made from the rabbit's body parts.

Kratos had his sword at Bios's throat in an instant. "Just as I thought," He said, glaring death at the man.

"I hardly think it proper to threaten to kill a man just because he can make a Horror out of a rabbit's carcass. Such a feat is very simple to do. Really, one can reanimate a rotten corpse with just as much difficulty," he said calmly, seemingly oblivious to the sword in front of him.

"From my experience, no necromancer can ever mean well. The very nature of their magic thrives on the pain and suffering of others. I know that the manipulation of dead creatures isn't the only thing that Necromancy can do. I'm sure that your 'art' is the real reason for your title of Heretic, too," Kratos hissed, waiting for the man to make a move.

"You are correct, sir," the smile was evident in Bios's voice, "but I can honestly say that I was going to leave this home without doing any harm. A very noble thing to do, especially considering that the inhabitants were responsible for the destruction of my book."

"I don't believe your lies for a moment."

"What the hell is going on?" Thomas shouted as he came down the stairs to see Kratos holding the Flamberge at the throat of the strange man from before. He noticed that his mom was staring in horror at something on the table, while dinner was burning behind her. He followed her line of vision to see the creature that Bios had created from the remains of the rabbit. "…" Thomas stared in disgusted interest as the little being that was clearly not natural. It made sickening squelches and what sounded like the crack of a wet bone as it gently swayed back and forth in a hypnotizing manner.

Sylpher came down and looked over Thomas's shoulder. "What's so interest- Sylvia, you've got to see this," he called when he caught sight of the little creature.

Sylvia was quick to follow. "What?" she asked. Then she saw what most of the room was looking at. "What the hell is that thing?" she demanded.

Seeing his chance, Bios used the distraction created by the teens' arrivals and made a commanding gesture towards Kratos and the Horror, as he had called it, leapt at Kratos, swinging its miniscule sword-arm. Kratos easily cut the beast in half, the two pieces falling to the ground and immediately turning to dust. However, the slight distraction gave Bios enough time to jump away.

Quick as lightning, the Flamberge was swinging through the air in a wide arc, losing little time in the destruction of the minor nuisance. The sound of tearing cloth filled the air as the lower half of Bios's robe was torn. The sight below caused everyone to gasp in horrified fascination. Bios sighed and pulled the rest of the robe off, fully uncovering the disturbing apparel of the necromancer.

The man's body was covered from head to toe in bones as if they were parts of a suit of armor. Ribs formed a breastplate while sections of spinal cords connected that to the two pelvises that protected his waist. Long bones wrapped around his arms and legs while the bones of hands and feet formed his boots. His forearms and hands were left bare, revealing his ghostly white skin. Bone fragments wrapped around his neck, protecting the vulnerable area from harm. Through the gaps in the bones, a crimson under-suit was visible. As a helmet he wore a bleached white skull, complete with the lower jaw. The mouth was partially open to show his mouth, which revealed healthy skin beneath the mask. Out of the eye sockets, two jade eyes gazed at them all with morbid intensity.

"I had hoped I could leave here without causing a ruckus, but that man simply won't allow me to leave peacefully." Bios pointed at Kratos. "I've seen his kind before. If he feels anyone he cares about is threatened, he will do anything to protect them. Now, though our time together was short, I must bid you all farewell," Bios said with a slight bow before a hammer the size of a poliwigle smashed the door to pieces. Three Horrors, two similar to the smaller one created earlier and one that had a large hammer instead of a sword, stepped into the building and took defensive positions around the necromancer. Bios ran out the door, his undead minions swiftly following him in an ungainly lope.

"After him!" Kratos shouted. Everyone immediately snapped out of their stupor from the sudden appearance of the larger Horrors and chased after the necromancer.

Unfortunately, they didn't quite see which way he had been running. But, perhaps because of his bizarre taste in armor, screams indicated where he was. "He's headed towards the northern exit. If he escapes, the entire world is in danger. He's obviously very skilled in Necromancy," Kratos said as they rushed to stop him.

"How do you know that?" Sylvia panted, trying to keep up with Kratos's superhuman pace.

"The larger a Horror is, the more difficult to create. Also, the armor that he wears, Necrotic Armor, is a creation that can only be made by extremely skilled necromancers," Kratos explained as they reached the clearing just before leaving town. "I've only seen one manage it before."

The four guards stationed at the exit were bravely trying to stop Bios and his undead minions as many villagers watched in stupid amazement. The Horrors were easily holding their own, showing a dexterity that their grotesque appearance and awkward balance belied them. Before their eyes, one of the guards was felled by a single blow from the Horror with the hammer-arm.

"You will go no further," Kratos growled, drawing Bios's attention.

Bios's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Dammit, I didn't want to have to do this. You three, distract them!" he ordered his Horrors, which quickly turned around and lurched towards the group. Everyone reacted quickly, cutting and slashing at the abominations before them.

The guards were then faced by the creator of the monsters that they had been fighting against.

"It'll take too long for you to fully die, so I'm forced to use this technique," Bios said as his right hand began to change. Sickly yellow material rose in a thin line from the base of his finger to the tip, getting no taller than a centimeter. The material kept stretching forward until it went three inches beyond his fingertips. Then a small coating of the material formed itself around the uncovered areas of his fingers. Closer examination revealed that it was actually some form of nails. He lifted his other hand and plunged the now-clawed appendage down, swiftly ripping it up. Bios had torn every finger on his left hand in half lengthwise, causing blood to spew from the injury that would cripple almost any warrior.

But, instead of a cry of pain, a hiss of contentment escaped the elf, as if he enjoyed the agony. Brandishing his injured hand and returning the other to normal, he turned to the horrified guards. "Your bodies are no longer you own," Bios said, swiping at them with his severely wounded hand. Blood splattered over them in a long, wide streak. "They're mine." Bios began to chant hypnotically in the same strange language as before, and the three living guards froze, though this time not in horrid fascination.

As the chant progressed, their bodies began to writhe. All three began to howl in pain, adding their cries to the dying sounds of the Horrors, a bone-chilling mix between a squelch and a cry of pain. Everyone stopped and watched in horror as the guards blew apart, spraying blood across the area. The bystanders finally got it in their heads to run, and run they did, screaming all the way.

Before any body parts or fluids touched the ground, they were sucked into a small whirlwind which only affected the material that was once the three guards. Bone grafted itself and flesh wove around the frame being built. A massive humanoid, standing at nine feet tall, slowly began to take shape. The lower body was completely disproportionate to the upper part, with only enough muscle and bone mass to support itself. The feet were much more like a human's and were made of solid bone. The torso and shoulders were muscled to the point that it was almost ridiculous. Arms as thick as a tree trunk stretched down and became an axe and a long spike at the wrists, both "hands" made of bone. A long neck formed itself from the shoulders, leaning forward and giving the beast a hunchback. The head formed itself into a bone mask, with a frill that made it look like a demon. A horn protruded from the forehead and two empty sockets gazed out from their perch. Below them was a row of razor sharp teeth, though it was missing a lower jaw. Slowly, a sick yellow glow began to emanate from the abyss of its eyes. It looked from side to side before letting out a blood curdling screech.

Bios gazed proudly at his creation as he placed his injured hand on the fourth guard's corpse. "Aid of the Dead," he commanded and the corpse shriveled as a blood red mist flowed from it and into Bios through his maimed appendage. The injuries quickly closed upon themselves and Bios turned to face his pursuers. "I'm afraid we split ways here, Heroes of Regeneration. Remember, you forced me to do this." He then sprinted out of the city while the demonic figure moved to obstruct their path to chase after him.

"What is that thing?" Colette asked.

"Well, this is going to be fun! Let's see what this over-muscled bonehead can do," he said, raising his axe and preparing for battle.

Sylvia put her hand to her forehead. "Sylpher, I'm sorry but that was perhaps the stupidest pun I've ever heard."

"No pun was intended."

"Idle talk during battle against such a dangerous foe is unwise," Presea scolded her children, preparing for the coming fight herself.

"That is one hell of a Horror," Thomas said as he unsheathed the Vorpal Sword.

The creation let out a low growl. "How… dare… you," it rumbled clumsily, surprising everyone in the group.

"It talked?" Colette gasped.

The yellow lights grew narrow. "I… not… Horror… I… Flesh… Golem… "

"He made a Flesh Golem capable of talking? And from living bodies, no less? I don't believe it. Such things shouldn't be possible," Kratos breathed.

The Flesh Golem raised the spike that was its left hand. "…DIE!" it screeched as it drove the spike into the ground. "Necrotic… Forest…"

Kratos's eyes widened. "Everyone, get thirty feet in the air, now!" He commanded as he pulled out his wings and grabbed the two closest people, Sylpher and Sylvia. He jumped into the air and flew up as fast as he could. He could hear the twins' screams and his family quickly following his command, Colette carrying Presea up. She made it just in the nick of time.

Just as she reached the altitude Kratos had told them, massive spikes made of bone up to thirty feet tall shot from the earth. An area of roughly one hundred feet was plastered in the spikes. A few gasps escaped their throats as they saw the bodies of a few unlucky villagers impaled upon them. Many of the corpses were suspended over their own homes, the arte penetrating straight through the buildings. If they had remained on the ground, they would have been doomed.

The spikes receded as quickly as they came and the group landed. The Flesh Golem pulled its arm from the ground and began to walk towards them.

"Ashes to ashes… Detonation!" Sylvia cast. A series of small explosions surrounded the Golem, slightly charring its flesh but doing nothing to slow it down. Colette began to throw her chakrams at the beast, but they bounced off without doing much more than scratch it.

Soon, the creature was upon them, swinging its ax-hand towards Lloyd. He jumped back and was blown away from the force created when the ax impacted the ground. Kratos swore as he tossed his shield aside. It would be of no use in this fight.

The beast towered over Lloyd with its spike pointed at him. Kratos let out a shout as he jumped onto the Golem's back and plunged his sword into the back of its neck. The Flamberge hissed as it burned the skin around it, but it couldn't have gone deeper than an inch.

It was enough to attract the attention of the Golem, which threw him off, letting out a pained roar. It turned and raised its arms. Both limbs morphed into enormous maces, foot long spikes covering every inch. "Impaling… Impact!"

"Heavenly Beast!" Thomas shouted before the Golem could deliver the deadly blow. He charged at his foe and shouldered it in the gut, causing it to recoil slightly, before delivering an upward slash. At the end, he held out an open palm and a glowing effigy of a beast flashed out of it, roaring viciously and sending the Flesh Golem high into the air. The Flesh Golem managed to pull itself back up and its hands returned to their normal shape. Despite the strength of the attack, the creature barely had a scratch on it.

"Damn, I think that hurt me more than it." Thomas said as he tenderly rubbed his shoulder.

"This thing is tough!" Sylpher commented as he hacked at its back before ducking beneath a sweep of the ax-hand.

"I'm going to check if this thing has a weakness," Sylvia said as she whisked out a Magic lens and held it up to her eye. "Name: Flesh Golem; Race: Undead; Strengths: Physical attacks and all forms of magic; Weaknesses: None," she recited as the magic aura of the lens faded. She tossed it aside. Sylpher grabbed her and pulled her out of the way of the Golem's ax as it tried to cut off her head.

"No wonder our attacks are doing next to nothing, it's resistant to them! How are we supposed to kill this thing?" Thomas shouted while avoiding the maces which had reformed.

"Mass Devastation!" Presea called as she brought her ax down heavily on the Golem, creating a large shockwave.

"Chlorine… Breath!" the Flesh Golem hissed without even flinching from the attack. A pale-green gas poured from beneath the half of a mouth and enveloped the pink haired woman. Presea began to cough and desperately tried to get away from the gas.

Colette quickly leapt to her aid and pulled her out as she continued to cough and wheeze, tears pouting from her eyes. The cloud of gas quickly dissipated.

"Mom!" Sylvia and Sylpher shouted at the same time, rushing to see if their mother would be all right.

"Don't get cocky," Kratos snarled as the light of mana emanated from his body, holding the Golem in place. He held his hands out in his usual incantation stance and chains of holy light circled around him, easily cutting the tough hide of the Flesh Golem. "Struggle against these holy chains…" Kratos whispered. His blue wings fluttered open behind him. He opened his eyes and a wave of mana emanated from him again, this time mixed with killing intent. "Shining Bind!" he shouted.

Kratos panted slightly as his mystic arte ended. Extremely powerful, mystic artes required vast amounts of mana; thus they were difficult to master and exhausting to use. Because of this, they were reserved as the last resort of any warrior able to use them.

As Kratos panted and recovered, everyone watched the undead beast closely, not daring to breath. Slowly, the light in the sockets died and the muscles relaxed. It began to rapidly deteriorate into dust. By the time it met the earth, the wind was already scattering its remains.

"Presea!" Lloyd said, rushing to his hurt friend. Kratos and Thomas quickly followed. Kratos, the most experienced in healing artes, knelt to examine the woman.

Presea's coughing had died, but that wasn't a good sign. She wasn't coughing because she was barely breathing. Her entire body shuddered violently as the affects of the arte did their work. "She was probably poisoned from the fumes. Does anyone have a panacea bottle?"

"I've got one! Dad makes me always carry one around, but I never thought I'd actually have to use it," Sylpher said as he hastily pulled out the familiar shape of the only bottle used to store the magical potion. Kratos took it from the boy and uncorked it. He carefully poured the contents into Presea's mouth and waited. Slowly, Presea's breathing returned and her shaking subsided. Everyone sighed a breathe of relief, knowing she would be fine.

"What a monster. To be able to create a creature like that out of living people!"

"And did you see the way he shuddered in pleasure as he cut his fingers open? I thought I would be sick," Colette said queasily.

"What I thought was the oddest was that there seemed to be scars around his arms and fingers, right where his skin turned that ghostly white and where the Necrotic Armor began. Did anyone else see that his fingers were a normal skin tone?" Sylvia asked.

"I did," Sylpher said.

Presea sat up, blearily looking around. "What happened?" She jumped at her feet in alarm and combed the area with her eyes. "Where's the Flesh Golem?" She gasped.

"It faded to dust after it died. Kratos used his mystic arte to kill it. Are you sure you should be moving like that? You just recovered from near-death," Colette told her, concerned.

"I'm perfectly fine now. But what happened to its body?"

"It returned to dust, as all dead things do," Kratos told her. "Now, we need to prepare to give chase to Heretic Bios. He is a very powerful man. Why a necromancer with his abilities would seek the Necrimonicon is beyond me, however."

"I do not know, but what I do know is that that man wasn't an elf. Or even a human for that matter," Presea shuddered.

"What do you mean?" Colette asked.

"When the claws on his hand formed, I saw the skin on his forearms recede from his elbow. It was not easily noticeable, but he had about two centimeters of nothing on his arm but the two bones beneath. And the strangest part is, the arm worked like normal, without any of the tendons or ligaments to hold it together."

Everyone was stunned into silence. Such a thing was… inhuman. Just what was Bios?

"That man… he greatly exceeds the abilities of any necromancer I've ever heard of. It should be impossible to create any undead minion out of a living body, and he did that. Then, he created a minion with enough sentience to be able to talk. And now he changes his own body. He is not a necromancer, he is a demon."

"I have a question," Thomas spoke up for the first time, "How the hell are we supposed to fight someone like that? From what you've said, he's defied the laws of the magic he practices."

"He is not invincible. He seems to favor the Horror class of minions, which is the most powerful, and the one with the most limitations, which gives us an advantage." Kratos answered.

"What do you mean by that?" Colette asked.

"The undead creatures summoned by necromancers consist of various classes. Many classes are well known, while others are obscure and seldom heard of. The more powerful minions are the most obscure, since great skill is needed to create and maintain them. Most of the creatures are made through a sacrifice of blood, proportionate to the class being made, the necromancer's skill, and the necromancer's ability to maintain control over it.

The most common classes of the Necromantic Creations are the following: Skeletons, Ghosts, Zombies, and Mummies. They are four of the weakest and easiest classes to control there are. If you want I can explain them in greater detail later, but they are irrelevant now. There are numerous other classes as well.

"Like I said before, Horrors are the most powerful. As the class rises, the limitations set on the creatures are greater. A Horror will die of its own accord after about two days, though a blood sacrifice from the controlling necromancer will extend this period. The larger a Horror is, the harder to control. They require a body that has been dead for up to one week to create and are extremely efficient in combat. There are also subclasses in the many classes, each of which has its own unique abilities. For the Horror class, however, there are three basic shapes. They are the same except for the weapon, which is a sword, an ax, or a hammer.

"Flesh Golems are an excellent example of a subclass. They are considered an alpha Horror of sorts, since the Horrors seem to follow them readily even when not controlled by a necromancer. They are extremely powerful and can use artes, as we have seen. We even happened to see its mystic arte, the Necrotic Forest. Only the greatest of necromancers can create one and still control it.

"The level of a necromancer's skill is self-explanatory as to the amount of blood needed. The reason blood is needed, however, is to act as a catalyst for the necromancer's controlling ability.

"The amount of control necessary increases with the class as well as with the number of undead that the necromancer already has under his control and the subclass that is being made. It is vital that the necromancer be able to maintain control, or else his own creations could go berserk and kill him. Despite popular belief, they do not need the necromancer to survive, unless they are of the most elite classes. Those classes will die eventually on their own, but will still kill the necromancer. The amount of blood used increases the level of control in a ratio known only to necromancers, since it is affected by the previous two factors.

"Now, in necromancy, there are some unbreakable rules. One of them is that a living body cannot be used to make anything, nor can it be used if the body is too freshly dead. Also, the necromancer cannot be undead in any form himself or his attempts at the creation of his minions are void. And the last one is that no necromancer, no matter how skilled and how great his control is, can create a creature with any level of sentience.

"Those are only three of the laws that Bios broke this afternoon. And, I fear, he has more plans and schemes. With his level of skill in necromancy, there is always an ulterior motive for every kind action," Kratos finished his long explanation of the basics of necromancy. Everyone sat transfixed by what Kratos had told them.

"Now I have another question. Can you explain how you know all of this?" Thomas said, suspicious, "Someone with such intimate knowledge of necromancy is a rather odd thing, don't you think? How do we know that you aren't in league with him somehow?"

"Thomas!" Colette gasped, shocked by her son's accusation. "You shouldn't say such cruel things. You don't know him that well. He isn't the type of person who would do that kind of magic."

"I'm just voicing everyone's thoughts, Mom. I'm sure you also thought that he would never betray your group. I'm sure Mithos thought that he would never betray him! His history doesn't allow him the luxury of being trusted in my eyes, even if he did help you all in the end," Thomas practically yelled. He glared fiercely at Kratos. "Explain yourself, now!"

Kratos looked his grandson in the eye, not wavering before the fierce gaze. "I understand your position. I would assume that everyone, even Lloyd, was asking themselves how I knew so much about necromancy. Such discernment and boldness is a good trait for you to have. You would have done very well in the Kharlan War," Kratos told him. The look in Thomas's eyes was all that was necessary for anyone to hear his voice shouting "get on with it!"

"As for how I know this much, I can accredit that to the man who trained me long ago. He was a very wise, and rather aggravating, elf that was unparalleled in many areas. In the days of the Kharlan War, the few necromancers there were could be bought as mercenaries for outrageously high prices, since they could create armies of their own. As a result, my master taught me much about them and their magic, since an undereducated soldier is a dead soldier. His training was very thorough. He told me just before I left my apprenticeship with him that I knew even more than some necromancers who had practiced the art for about five years.

"And as for my defense in the accusation of siding with him: necromancers have a very notorious history of being double crossers. They would set up contracts with both warring factions and send their own armies out to wreak havoc on both countries. As a result, I have never trusted someone who practices the art on any level," Kratos explained.

Thomas nodded. "All right, I'll accept that."

"Phew. I thought for sure Thomas was going to attack him. That's a look that he usually gives when he's really angry," Sylpher sighed in relief.

"At least it wasn't like when he gave that look while smiling at the same time. I could've sworn the guy that received that wet himself," Sylvia added.

"Well, we're all tired, so I think we should rest for tonight, since we are definitely tired after that fight. The day after tomorrow, we start going to Palmacosta," Lloyd said. Everyone agreed with that.

* * *

Bios slowed as he panted for breath. Creating an undead minion – and a Flesh Golem at that – out of living bodies was extremely taxing. It required vast amounts of blood and it nearly exhausted himto the point of passing out.

He sighed as he pulled the skull off of his head and shook his hair loose. Sweat sprayed the area around him. It got hot in that armor. He allowed the rest of it to crumble, but let the skull remain while he turned it in his hands.

"Well, without my book, my newest apprentice is going to have a tough time becoming a truly great necromancer. She is extremely talented, but that book explains secrets that one could find out after many years of experience, if they were lucky enough to survive the ordeal to obtain them. I guess I'll just have to write another one," He sighed, talking to no one in particular.

He remembered the man that had quite nearly made him use some of the curses and hexes from his vast repertoire. The snarl returned to his face as he crushed the skull in his hands. "That man made a mockery of my armies before. Of course, he hadn't been alone then, but still. How I want to slowly peel the flesh from his arms and legs, then break his bones one by one, enjoying his screams all the while. Then, I think I'll turn him into a skeleton." Bios smiled sadistically at that thought as he continued to his destination.

"I've wanted to do that for so long. You may not have recognized me, Kratos Aurion, though I had thought the armor would be a dead giveaway. But know this: the Legionnaire doesn't forget the grievances his foes have made against him, and neither does he forgive them."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**(evil giggling) I'm in anticipation of the next chapter.**_

_**Sylpher: Seriously, necromancy?**_

_**That's just the start. You'll love it when his faction is introduced, along with his apprentice, which may or may not be for awhile. I'm conflicted on her appearance in the plot. Oh, and when I bring in other classes and subclasses of the undead.**_

_**Sylpher: by the way, good job coming up with Horrors. All the other crap is so clichéd.**_

_**Well, I had some help with them. They are very loosely based on Horrors from the MMORPG game called Guild Wars. The Flesh Golem is a lot more similar, though he got changes as well.**_

_**Now, to my dear readers. I AM SO SORRY! PLEASE DON'T COVER ME WITH LEECHES AND THEN DISSECT ME ALIVE WHILE CHEWING ON MY BRAIN!**_

_**Sylpher: … just pretend you don't know him. Don't comment. Don't look at him. Don't even acknowledge his existence. **_

_**I heard that.**_

_**Sylpher: …**_

… _**Anyway, as I was saying. I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE LATE UPDATE! I'M SO WORTHLESS! I'd let you kill me in any way you saw fit (not including the one mentioned above. It sounds rather painful), but then I couldn't finish the story. At least I slightly made up for it by making this chapter a personal record of nearly 10,500 words. That's quite an achievement for me!**_

_**And once more, I'M SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!**_

_**Sylpher: … So I guess review if you want. Please end the chapter now. I think he finally snapped.**_

_**No I didn't. I just broke off what was left.**_


	5. Chapter 5: To Be Unborn

_**Okay, I decided. Bios's apprentice will make an appearance this chapter. Along with that, Bios becomes more of an enigma.**_

_**Sylvia: Is that even possible?**_

_**Not really, that just sounded cool. In truth, he just mentions unexplained things. But a lot of things about him are explained. **_

_**Sylvia: So, who's his apprentice?**_

_**I'm sorry, but that is classified information, even for a part of my own mind.**_

_**Sylvia: You do know I already know, right?**_

_**Yes. But you know what will happen if you tell. I created you; I know all of your tricks.**_

_**Sylvia: You have a point…**_

_**By the way, I never did mention this but the reason this fic is rated T is 1) because of gore (There's not much now, but just wait) and 2) because of advanced terminology that I use in my everyday speech patterns. I am a very intellectual person and I read a LOT so I know a lot of words most people stare at and think "Huh?"**_

_**Anonymous Review Responses**_

_**None, again. =*(**_

_**Now, I want to get this over with so I can continue on to one of my favorite and goriest parts of the story so far. In fact, I think it is one of the goriest scenes in the entire story. **_

_**Sylvia: And you are impatient to get there?**_

_**Yes. It will be so very sweet to write what has festered in my mind for so long. Every detail in a horrific scene sending chills down my spine as I write (shudders violently with a look of bliss on face). It will be so sweet (licks lips while grinning maliciously)**_

_**Sylvia: … You really need to see a psychiatrist.**_

_**Again with that? Your brother said the same thing. Screw it; I'm not going to argue with this crap. To my story! Huzzah, gory necromancy!**_

_**Sylvia: You've played way too many gory video games.**_

_**Incorrect! Many of the games I have played throughout my lifetime are not gory at all. I just believe in accuracy of detail. I hate games that are gory only for the sake of being gory. It just makes it all look way too fake. A lack of gore when gore is necessary is almost as bad. I prefer a realistic amount of gore.**_

_**Sylvia: You've got your responses to these things all planned out, don't you?**_

_**I sure do. **_

_**Um, to my dear, dear readers, I have something I really need to get off my chest.**_

**_I AM SO VERY VERY SORRY YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I HURT MYSELF BECAUSE I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER SO LATE I AM BEGGING ON MY KNEES FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS AND I WILL NOT OFFER ANY EXCUSE BECAUSE THE FAULT IS MINE AND I ACCEPT FULL RESPONSIBILITY SO YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO HATE ME WITH EVERY FIBER OF YOUR BEING BUT STILL I MUST ASK YOU TO FORGIVE ME AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NO SKIN ME BEFORE BOILING ME ALIVE AND USING MY BLOOD AS A SOUP ON THE SIDE!_**

_**Sylvia: … Okay. That was rather scary.**_

_***deep breathing* I meant every word, too. Please, enjoy the overdue fruits of my labor.**_

Chapter 5: Knights of the Unborn

Thomas hurriedly packed a bag full of any gels or other healing items he could find in his room. They had split up for a short time to gather supplies. Since Bios had left on the north side of the village, that gave him only one place to go, the Martel Temple. Near the temple was Iselia's graveyard.

For him to go there could mean only one thing: he was going to raise an undead army. And if Kratos's description of them was accurate, then he would undoubtedly use it.

Thomas sighed as he put his pack on his bed and knelt. He reached beneath it and pulled back a medium-sized wooden box. He opened it to reveal a set of clothing identical to the one he currently wore, except there was a pair of bright blue, fingerless gauntlets and there was no scarf. He lifted the shirt, the clink of chainmail sounding in the air. "I never thought I'd have to put this stuff on," He said as he began to change into the armor-laced clothes.

All of Thomas's close friends had a set of armored clothes. As Professor Sage would always say, it never hurt to be too prepared. Most of the sets were identical to the clothing they normally wore. Thomas's was the only one that was slightly different from his usual apparel. He put the scarf back around his neck before placing his other clothes into the box. He slid it back under the bed then grabbed his bag and ran to join his family.

"Ready to go," he said and they set off to meet up with the Sages. They met by the entrance and headed towards the old building.

"Kratos," Presea began, "You mentioned that you have met a necromancer with the ability to use the Necrotic Armor before?"

"Yes, I have. His pseudonym at the time was the Legionnaire. All necromancers have multiple names and titles so that they can't be known or recognized by their names. The Legionnaire was the strongest necromancer of his time], by far. We managed to kill him, though we barely escaped his rampaging minions afterwards," Kratos answered.

"Were the creatures he created really that powerful?" Lloyd asked.

"It was not the creatures' strength that was the problem; it was the state we were in after we managed to kill him. A Necromancer has a wide array of spells, hexes, and curses that make them formidable opponents, even without an army at their back. One of their more dangerous hexes is one that slowly drains the stamina of his target and gives it to the necromancer. Since it can be cast on numerous targets, it is quite dangerous, but it only lasts for a short period of time."

"Wow, these guys sound really dangerous," Sylvia said.

"Which is another reason why we cannot fail to defeat Bios now, before he can create his army. He will be incredibly weak after creating that Flesh Golem," Kratos told them, "We should get there as fast as we can."

They walked, conversations over various subjects taking place amongst them. Over the course of time, Kratos slowly drifted towards Thomas. "You fought well against the Horrors, and against the Flesh Golem," Kratos complimented the teen.

"Thanks. I train as much as I can. All the troubles of the world just seem to fade as you holding a sword," Thomas shrugged, smiling.

"However, I must ask why you chose not to use your angelic abilities against the Flesh Golem. A foe of that caliber cannot be given any quarter. You were blessed with being an angel, and that means that you have abilities that many envy. Why didn't you use that gift in battle?" Kratos asked his grandson.

"You and I both know that it's not a gift to be an angel," Thomas snarled.

"…"

Thomas sighed, forcing himself to relax. "When I was about ten, I was working on unarmed combat with some of my 'friends' after school. At one point, I accidently lost my focus on suppressing my angelic powers and I practically shattered every bone in his body. Luckily, Professor Sage was able to fix him up, but ever since that day I swore I would never use my angelic abilities in combat."

"I see," Kratos replied after a moment, "You don't use them because you have connected them with causing pain to others." Kratos looked intently at his grandson. "That is a foolish decision."

Thomas glared at Kratos. "What?"

"If you truly want to protect everyone, then it would be wise to hone your angelic abilities, and to use them to your advantage. The man we will face today will not show mercy, and he will use any means necessary to harm you. Holding back can lead to failure."

Thomas grunted while turning his head. "If I destroy everything I care about in the process, what's the point of succeeding?" Thomas whispered. Kratos shook his head and walked away.

* * *

They arrived at the ancient temple to find that the graveyard was full of skeletons, zombies in various stages of decomposition, and other undead which were making their way from their old graves to the inside of the Chapel. They hurried into the graveyard, weapons at the ready.

"There is no way that he could be able to summon this many undead only a few hours after making that Flesh Golem," Kratos said, gazing at all the ruined graves. Suddenly, a group of zombies came from the back of the graveyard and began to limp and lurch towards them. They prepared for a fight.

The zombies walked around them.

"Okay, that was weird," Lloyd said while looking back at the undead creatures, "Shouldn't they attack us?"

"Their orders are to guard the inside of the temple. They won't concern themselves with anyone on the outside," a sickly-sweet voice explained.

Colette, Lloyd, and Presea gasped, while the rest looked on in confusion at the source of the voice. "Alice!" Colette gasped.

Alice stood amidst a group of four creatures that reeked of evil intent and malicious thoughts. They were an evanescent, humanoid figure, blacker than the darkest night. Two blood-red eyes glowed on their vague outline of a head. Long tails swished slowly back and forth as they circled the woman, their eyes locked on the seven like an eagle watching a mouse. Claws adorned their hands and feet, sharp despite their misty appearance. There were no features to distinguish between the beasts, save for the eyes. They walked on their hands and feet, much like a human would if they were to do the same.

"Nightmares," Kratos breathed, "She's another necromancer."

Alice smiled, a tinge of sadism underlying the innocent expression. "Why, I'm so glad you remember me, Colettie. I'd thought you would have forgotten me."

"Emil and Marta told us that they had killed you and Decus in the Ginungagap," Presea stated, bewildered.

The smile faltered for a moment, before returning. "We did die, but that's not really important. What is important is why you've come. If you're here to see Master Bios, he is busy preparing things, so he can't 'talk' with anyone," She said.

"Wait, back up for a moment. You're name is Alice, as in, the Alice of the Vanguard from twenty years ago who died along with Decus, right? But you're clearly alive and - correct me if I'm wrong - you're the apprentice of the strongest necromancer in history?" Sylvia asked.

"Yep, but you're missing one little detail. Master Bios isn't just the greatest necromancer, he's the first necromancer. And apparently, your parents have something to do with destroying his book, which really didn't make Master Bios very happy. He wouldn't stop going on about how he had to write a new one now," Alice responded sadly, somehow managing to maintain the sweet and innocent air.

"That is impossible. The Necrimonicon was an ancient book during the Kharlan War. For Bios to have been the author of it means that he is thousands, if not, tens of thousands of years old," Kratos said.

Alice frowned while she examined Kratos. "Hmm, I don't know how you know so much, but I know several people who can vouch for who Master Bios is. Now, I'm going to give you all about ten seconds before my pets get too restless. I can't guarantee that you'll survive." She said, a sadistic smile spreading over her features.

"Um, I'm lost right now. I'm kinda stuck on how a dead person came back to life. Mind explaining that?" Sylpher said, scratching his head.

"Well, I'm not the person to ask for specifics, but, basically, Death finds a reason to keep you alive. Now, are you going to leave, or will I have to 'convince' you to leave?"

Just then, Bios walked up behind her, drawing all eyes to him. "They managed to defeat one of my Flesh Golems, Alice. Your Shade Nightmares would merely slow them down," He told his apprentice.

His Necrotic Armor had clearly been re-made, since the skull over his head now sported a pair of horns and skulls adorned his shoulders as well as his kneecaps. "Go get some of the weaker Knights and bring them here. I'll make sure our guests are entertained," he ordered, the implications clear.

"…Fine. But if they beat your Flesh Golem, a few Knights won't take long to kill," Alice said as a gateway made of a roiling black mist appeared. She looked back at the group. "Unfortunately for you, it looks like my master has decided to kill you himself." She calmly turned and vanished through it. Her pack of Shade Nightmares silently padded after her.

"Now, I have no doubt that you came to kill me, if you can," Bios said as he faced the group. The claws from the village returned, this time the yellow nail entirely covering his hands and the knife extensions reaching to about six inches. Two inches of bone was clearly visible just past his elbow, the flesh making up his claws. "Come at me!" he hissed, his eyes shimmering in sadistic glee.

Thomas was first, charging before swiping at Bios. Bios dodged, and Thomas allowed his momentum to plow a punch right into Bios's jaw. Bios staggered and gave Thomas time to bring a powerful blow aimed for his head. Bios recovered faster than Thomas expected and effortlessly caught the blade and flipped the teen into a grave.

A black rune circle appeared at his feet for an instant before Bios stretched out his hand. A line of mana flowing from Thomas to Bios appeared. "Life Drain!" Bios announced as Thomas stood back up, though every movement he made grew more and more sluggish.

Sylpher roared as he brought his ax down on Bios's head, knocking him down. Sylpher kicked the necromancer into the air before bringing the heavy weapon into his back once more, slamming Bios into the ground and pushing him away with a shockwave. "Total Annihilation!"

Bios jumped back to his feet, his armor cracked in a few places and the line draining strength from Thomas vanished. He clenched his fist in the air towards Sylpher. The ground beneath him suddenly exploded, sending rotting body parts flying and knocking Sylpher into Sylvia and breaking her concentration. "Corpse Explosion!"

Lloyd, Presea, and Colette all launched a coordinated attack. Lloyd used his Sword Rain: Alpha arte while Presea used Punishment and Colette used Grand Chariot. Bios easily and effectively countered each one of them before spinning in a circle with his arms outstretched to catch his foes, his claws charged with a mana that was thick and cloying. The arte delivered a chain of attacks that would have killed Lloyd and Presea if they hadn't been wearing armor-laced clothing. "The Third Circle!"

Lloyd and Presea were thrown away from the necromancer. Another black circle appeared beneath his feet. "Screech within their minds…" he chanted swiftly. Before anyone could interrupt his spell, it was finished. "Cacophony!" He roared as he spread his arms wide. A band of black mana swept over the battlefield, bringing with it a sound that tore at the minds of the group.

Everyone standing fell to their knees, clutching their heads while everyone on the ground writhed in pain from the ear splitting noise.

Kratos was the first to recover, and charged Bios. Bios easily countered each of Kratos's strokes and quickly wrenched the Flamberge from his hands. Bios struck, quick as lightning, and had Kratos by the throat, and effortlessly hoisted him into the air. "You are just as good as I remember, Kratos Aurion. In fact, you have improved. But, you barely managed to kill me before, and mere numbers won't help you now," Bios hissed.

Suddenly, a sword was thrust between the ribs of his armor. Bios let out a surprised shout and dropped Kratos to the ground. Thomas staggered back, leaving the Vorpal Sword in the necromancer's chest and smiling wearily as he panted. "It's an easy matter to kill you if you leave yourself open like that," he said in between gasps.

Bios looked dumbly at the blue blade that was plunged through his heart in a mortal blow. Then, he threw his head back and began cackling, a look of glee on his face. "O the pain! The fire burning through my entire body and blessing my nerves with sweet agony! I've never felt so alive!" he deteriorated into more manic cackling, sending chills down everyone's spines. This man had a sword colder than ice piercing his heart, and not only was he not dying, but he was reveling in the pain.

He was neither sane nor human.

Bios grabbed the end of the sword - demented smile still adorning his face - and shoved it back out of his body. "I find it most fascinating that you still don't recognize me, Kratos. I would have thought that you would put the pieces together by now," Bios laughed, not fazed by the blood now spurting from his wound, painting the bleached white bones of his armor a bright scarlet. "I suppose I'll have to tell you all straight out." Bios climbed briskly on top of a gravestone similar in shape to a pedestal before giving them all a low and extravagant bow.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself this time, with all of my pseudonyms and titles. I am Bios, the Heretic, the Gore-Crow, the Dark Elf, the Necrotic Warrior, the Author of the Dead, Leader of Samael's Disciples, the Third Lord of the Unborn, and," Bios raised his head and his eyes centered on Kratos, their jade depths gleaming in anticipation, "the Legionnaire."

Kratos couldn't believe his ears. "That's impossible…" Kratos whispered, his eyes wide, "You died. Yuan thrust his swallow into your gut while Mithos cut off your head. No one can survive that. It is utterly impossible." But at the same time, it made perfect sense as the dots began to connect in his mind. The necromancer who was so powerful four thousand years ago somehow survived and had grown powerful beyond belief. But no one, absolutely _no one_, could live after decapitation, excluding summon spirits and centurions.

"Just like it was impossible for you to live for four thousand years?" Bios countered. "You never did see my full power during the war. I was always holding back. But I will admit that I died that day." Bios turned to gaze upon the last of the undead as they made their way into the temple. "I died for the fourth time in my existence."

"Wait, you died for the _fourth_ time? Since when could someone die more than once? Alice didn't really give us a straight answer when she explained how she could still be alive," Sylpher asked.

Bios gave an annoyed sigh, as if he had been asked that question numerous times. "A basic lesson of Necromancy can answer that. With some adjustments," Bios recited as if from memory while he turned to face them. "What does it mean to live? Nearly every individual has a unique answer to that question, making it philosophy. What does it mean to die? Nearly everyone agrees that it is the end of life, which makes it an established fact. But I ask you, what does it mean to live again after you have died?"

"Umm, could you repeat the question? I'm not sure if I heard that right," Sylpher answered, making sure that his ears were clean.

Kratos spoke up, "To live after you have died is not to live, but to be nothing more than a reanimated corpse, capable of nothing but doing his master's bidding. A basic lesson of necromancy, indeed."

"In the normal terms, you are correct, Kratos. But, I do not use 'alive' in the terms of 'capable of motion'. I use it in the terms of 'capable of independent thought and conscious decisions'."

"… Such a thing is impossible. Once someone has died, his soul – the very essence of life – leaves his body and vanishes to some other plane of existence," Kratos said after a moment of thought.

"Correct! If only I had possessed that knowledge then…" Bios said, lifting his hand and examining it as if it was stained with blood for the first time ever. He shook himself from his reverie. "But that law of nature has been overturned many times. If you do not believe me, there is proof that one can live after death on this plane of existence. He stands before you, and my apprentice is an example as well. Let me tell you of what it means to be Unborn!

"We live without the fear of death, for death is our master, and destruction our guide. No matter what happens, as long as he sees fit to do it, he will revive us from the eternal slumber that we are so loathe to embrace. We were once born, but that has been reversed. We are the Unborn, beings that have transcended death itself and exist in ignominy.

"I am their Third Lord, and I have been an agent in the workings of my master's plans for millennia, using my many names to conceal my constant existence from all. But now, the time for secrecy is over. The wheel of Fate turns, and the gods watch as the all pieces fall into place. The start of something beyond your imagining has begun, and I suggest you leave before we must show you our true might."

As he finished his speech, two of the same gateways from before appeared around the grave. From the first, stepped Alice, her nightmares in tow. From the other two, two unfamiliar men emerged. One of them was a clearly a ninja, dressed like one of the famed warriors of Mizuho. The other was clearly albino with his ghostly white skin, blondish-white hair, and bright red eyes. He wore clothe of the purest white and carried with him a claymore, a sword so massive few could lift it with two hands. However, he carried it with one hand as if it was as light as air.

Bios smiled, wiping some of the blood from his chest and flicking it on the ground next to him. A skeleton quickly crawled its way from the ground, the earth closing behind it. Bios hopped down from the gravestone and grabbed the skeleton's head. "Undead Feast!" he muttered. The skeleton burst into dust and Bios's chest stopped spraying blood from his should-have-been-fatal wound.

The two men turned towards the necromancer and bowed. "You summoned us, Lord Bios?" the ninja asked.

Bios turned to him. "Yes. I want you to keep these fools busy while Alice and I complete our mission. I don't care if you die."

The two bowed before turning to the group. Bios and Alice quickly left entering into the depths of the temple.

"What are they going to do in there? I thought Bios was just coming here to create an army. There aren't any graves inside, so why would he go into the Temple?" Colette said.

"Someone must be manipulating his actions. I do not think these men would take orders from a necromancer unless he had authority over them," Presea said.

"Which means that there is obviously some hierarchy of leadership," Sylvia said.

"And, assuming Samael's Disciples are necromancers and aren't able to make those weird portals, then these guys must be from that Unborn group he was ranting about," Sylpher added.

"And, assuming these men are also Unborn, and they are called Knights, they must be the peons of the group since Bios, who said he was a Lord, ordered them about," Thomas pitched in.

"To be specific, he said he was the 'Third Lord', so if there is a "First Lord', then he would be under him. But we do not know if there is a group above that," Kratos thought aloud.

"Is this really the best time to be discussing this? We do have two guys who were told to kill us standing in front of us," Lloyd reminded them all.

The albino waved his hand at them to continue. "No, we were ordered to keep you busy and keep you out of the inside of the temple. You can keep discussing things amongst yourselves. It saves us the effort of fighting and you get time to figure everything out; It's a win-win situation," he explained.

Lloyd shook his head, "But that doesn't change the fact that if we don't go into the temple soon and stop Bios, then something bad will happen. Plus, we came here to stop Bios in the first place."

The ninja and albino exchanged looks. The ninja turned back to them and told them, "Well, the best way to respond to the first part would be to ask you to define 'something bad'. As to the second part, you'd be screwed. He has only died four times in his life, and two of the times he was holding back and another was his natural death. He has only been killed by one person, though there are more people stronger than the one who killed him. It would be best for you to leave."

"I'm sure we can all see where this is going to end," Thomas sighed as he popped an apple gel into his mouth so he could recover from Bios draining his strength. He then jogged over to his sword and picked it up, holding it in a ready position. Lloyd and the others quickly followed his example, holding their weapons at the ready.

The albino sighed, "I knew it would come to this when Red Jacket brought your attention back to us. I was afraid I was getting rusty anyway." He held his claymore in front of him, gripping it with both hands. "We may be peons, but that doesn't mean we're weak!" he screamed as he rushed them.

The group was caught off guard by his sudden aggressiveness, and before they knew it, the albino was right in front of Thomas.

He brought the massive blade up and crashed it down to the earth. Thomas easily dodged to the side, but was blown away by the following outflow of mana. "The First Circle!" the albino swordsman roared. Thomas was tossed aside like a rag doll. He quickly scrambled back to his feet before sighing in annoyance. He asked no one in particular, "Why am I always the one that gets thrown around?"

"Perhaps you have a knack for flying!" The ninja said from behind him. Thomas whirled around to face his new opponent. "Let's test that theory." The ninja made two horizontal swipes at Thomas, wielding a kunai knife in his hand. Thomas easily deflected the blows, but wasn't ready for the abnormally strong punch to the gut. Thomas was launched into the air and the ninja held out his knife, waiting for Thomas to fall on it so it could plunge into Thomas's chest. "The Second Circle!" The ninja announced.

Lloyd slammed into the ninja just before Thomas fell on the kunai. Thomas landed heavily on the ground, grateful that it was dirt instead of metal. He probably wouldn't have been killed, thanks to his armor, but it still would have hurt. Lloyd proceeded to duel the ninja – who produced shuriken and even more kunai from seemingly nowhere – while Thomas got back on his feet.

The blast from the arte by the claymore-wielder had done more than fling Thomas aside: it had also sent Presea into a broken grave headfirst. She had fallen limply to the ground while a trail of blood trickled down her features, blank eyes staring. Colette had rushed over to the woman to make sure she was alright while Kratos, Sylpher, and Sylvia fought the now highly aggressive albino.

Sylpher swung his axe in an uppercut, imbuing his axe with wind mana to send the albino higher and add some speed to his slash. "Skyward Strike!" The albino landed heavily on his back. He snarled and jumped to his feet.

"You'll pay for that, twerp," he growled through his clenched teeth.

"Blow them away," Sylvia chanted, "Jet Stream!" Sylvia held her kendama forward and a tunnel of wind screamed from the ball-and-cup. The albino's eyes widened before he braced himself. The powerful winds picked him up off his feet and sent him careening into a large gravestone, giving him six gashes along the way. Kratos was above the albino before he could recover, and the Knight barely managed to avoid decapitation.

Thomas had rejoined the fight against the ninja. Together, he and his father kept him on the defensive. Suddenly, as if by an unspoken command, Lloyd pulled away while Thomas pressed his attack. "I've had enough of you!" he shouted as he brought his sword down on his foe. The ninja easily blocked the strike, but before he could perform a counter-blow, Thomas did a back-flip, slamming his foot into the ninja's jaw and effectively stunning him. Thomas jumped after him and brought the pommel of the Vorpal Sword down, sending the Knight back down to earth. "Heaven's Impact!" Thomas screamed as he followed his foe and landed on top of the ninja sword first.

Thomas pulled his sword out and backed up, considering his handiwork. The body shifted and pulled itself back up. The ninja was breathing heavily and was obviously in pain. The sword had gone straight through him and the stab wound in his gut poured out blood. "That was an excellent arte, kid," he panted.

Thomas balked. He had severed the man's spinal cord! There was no way he could be alive, let alone be able to stand!

The ninja flicked three shuriken at Thomas. Thomas dove to the side and was left wide open for the kunai that was once in the ninja's hands.

Time slowed as Thomas watched the knife fly in a calculated path directly towards his eye. His mind went blank. The only thought that went through his head was: _"Dear gods, I'm going to die!"_

Suddenly, Lloyd was in front of his son, his blades protecting them both from harm. Time resumed its pace and Thomas flopped onto the ground ungracefully.

A fire raged inside Lloyd's eyes, and it was focused solely upon the ninja. "Don't you dare try to hurt my son again!" he snarled. The light of mana burst from Lloyd as he activated his mystic arte.

Lloyd jumped into the air, the ninja only able to watch helplessly. "I'm almost dead already, this is just overkill," he whispered under his breath. Lloyd's swords shined brightly as they came together to form a single sword. Lloyd fell upon the ninja, putting all his strength into an earth-shattering blow. "Divine Judgment!" he roared. The earth crack and shifted beneath the immense power of the arte.

The aftermath: Lloyd stood in the center of a crater next to a blood splatter that used to be the ninja.

The entire battlefield had paused and watched the arte in shock for varying reasons. Kratos was awed at how strong his son had grown, Colette and the newly-conscious Presea were amazed that he had been provoked into using the arte, while Sylpher, Sylvia, and Thomas – all of whom had never seen the Eternal Swordsman's arte – were just plain flabbergasted. Out of the corner of Thomas's eye, he could see the albino twitching in anger.

"He was my friend! You killed my friend!" he said in shock, his voice slowly rising. Slowly, ebony black flames crept their way up his sword, rapidly growing larger. "Knights at our level are expendable. We don't get any revivals! He was my friend and now he's gone! All because of you! Damn you to the Evitagen, you piece of crap! I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!" The flames had stopped growing long ago, reaching only a foot-and-a-half in height. The black fire flickered as the claymore was brought back, their eerie glow casting an unnatural light on the albino's profile. "ATRUM NEX!" he raged as he swung his sword in front of him, forcing the dark fire to gather in front of him and expand.

All of them were shocked as a massive ball of ebony fire rapidly formed and rushed towards Lloyd. It was two stories in diameter and it left a large path as it quickly ate up the distance between the two. Lloyd only stared in shock at the sudden power that had been released.

Thomas didn't even think. He didn't have time to think. He was the only one close enough to do anything. He pulled out his wings and launched himself at his father. He crashed into him and poured all his strength into getting out of the unnatural fireball's path. He made it just in time. The ball passed them and soon lost its energy afterwards, passing a few inches of the father and son. Thomas briefly wondered how such a massive sphere of fire was so cold. He could actually see his breath for an instant as it passed.

Thomas suddenly felt drained. He dropped his father and fell to the earth, rolling to absorb some of the impact. At the far end of the graveyard, the sphere exploded in a terrible display of destructive power, darkening the area and chilled considerably as the flames worked in the reverse of ordinary fire.

Kratos saw his opportunity and viciously cut off the albino's head. It rolled a short distance as the body crumpled. It stopped face up, the face twisted in rage and malice, glaring at Kratos.

Thomas laid there on the ground, greedily gulping in air. His father walked over and held out his hand, which Thomas gladly accepted. Lloyd hefted his son onto his feet.

Just then, Colette made it to them and tightly hugged them both. "I was so worried! Are you two all right? You're not hurt, are you?" She asked, relief clear in her voice.

"We're fine, Colette. Stop worrying so much," Lloyd assured her.

Thomas's face was turning blue. "C-can't… breathe!" he managed to gasp. Colette immediately stopped hugging them and smiled sweetly.

"I'm sorry," she said. Just then, the rest of the group made it to them.

"Is everyone alright? That arte seemed very powerful," Presea said.

"It appears that they are both fine," Kratos observed, trying not to freak out like Colette just was.

"That albino said that Knights were the weakest, right?" Sylpher asked.

"Yeah, he did. Bios also told Alice to get the weakest ones, too," Sylvia told her twin.

"Exactly. So, if they were weak, and they were able to use something like that, then imagine what would qualify as strong to them," Sylpher said. Everyone was silent for a moment.

Thomas broke the silence. "I would also guess that they also have a resistance to death. I stabbed the ninja in the gut, neatly severing his spinal cord. But he still managed to get up and fight. If we combine their unnatural endurance with their extreme power, I would say that these Unborn guys are definitely a threat."

"Do you think they are trying to conquer the world?" Lloyd asked.

"Unlikely. From what we can speculate about the information Bios gave us, they have existed for a very long time. If this is the power of the weakest, then the power of their leaders alone could bring the world to their knees. If they wanted to do that, they could have done it a long time ago," Presea explained.

"We shouldn't waste time here in idle speculation. Whatever their goal is, they need something from the Martel Temple. Before we try to figure out what they want, we should stop them from doing anything here first," Kratos said.

Sylpher and Sylvia both nodded. "He's right," Sylpher agreed.

"I doubt they can be doing anything good in there," Sylvia added.

They turned towards the temple and marched in, keeping a close eye out for undead that might try to stop them from advancing.

There were plenty of the unnatural creatures inside. Wave after wave of the affronts to life assaulted them. They were easy enough to dispatch, but their numbers exceeded what they had thought could be summoned in the graveyard. Despite the near constant attacks, there was still time in between fights to talk amongst themselves.

It was during one of these breaks that Thomas walked up to Kratos and asked, "Hey, Kratos. Can I ask you something?"

Kratos looked at his grandson, briefly wondering what it could be. "… Of course. What do you wish to know?"

"How come you didn't seem all too worried when Dad and I were nearly killed by that Atrum Nex arte back there?"

Kratos sighed. "For one, you were too focused on avoiding the attack to look at me while you were in imminent danger, so you could not know whether or not I was worried while it was happening. Also, when you were able to take the time to look at me, the situation had ended and you were no longer in danger."

"True, but you didn't seem very distraught by the near miss that happened."

"I was worried, to tell you the truth. But after you two were out of danger, it would be foolish to dwell on what might have been."

"Okay, that makes sense. Thanks."

Thomas walked back to talk with Sylvia and Sylpher, signaling the end of the conversation. Kratos sighed and closed his eyes. He knew he had seen that arte before, but he did not know where.

They walked on, various conversations taking place between battles. But, after a while, Lloyd began to think about the Atrum Nex arte that the albino had used. It seemed familiar.

"Lloyd, is something wrong?" Colette asked her husband.

Lloyd turned to his wife and frowned slightly. "I just can't shake this feeling that I've seen that Atrum Nex before."

Colette blinked, thinking about it for a moment herself, "You're right. It did look familiar."

"What was familiar?" Presea asked, coming into the conversation.

"Lloyd thinks he's seen the Atrum Nex thing before," Colette explained.

"Indeed, it was. I have been feeling the same," Kratos interjected.

"So we all feel that we have seen it before. I have been wondering about that myself," Presea said.

Suddenly, Lloyd snapped his fingers and put his finger in the air in the universal I've-got-it pose. "I know why it's familiar!" He exclaimed.

"Why is that, Lloyd?" Colette asked.

"It's similar to Ratatosk's Ain Soph Aur!" he told them, excited that he had figured it out.

"You mean that white ball of mana he would use after his mystic arte? Hmm, you are right, Lloyd! If you make the sphere white instead of black and make it half its size, then it looks just like the Ain Soph Aur," Presea concluded.

"But what was that guy doing using an attack similar to Ratatosk's power?" Colette asked.

"Ain Soph Aur is the signature attack of Ratatosk. It is impossible for any other being to use it. I do not see how it is possible, but the Atrum Nex is similar to Ain Soph Aur. Now the only question, is how did they gain the ability to use it?" Kratos asked, sending everyone into silence.

Hours passed as they made their way to the bottom floor. There, they were greeted with the sight of a wall of bones fifteen feet high surrounded a battlefield where Bios fought with a glowing woman with light brown hair and deep green eyes. Her armor was reminiscent of a forest with the shades of green and brown that it used and her sword was the same colors, the hilt brown and the blade green.

Both combatants bore heavy wounds. Bios's were far more life threatening, and probably would have already been fatal if he weren't already dead. His armor was heavily cracked and chunks of it were missing entirely.

The woman's injuries, however, were not as grievous. It was clear that the battle was going in her favor.

Bios snarled in frustration as he slashed for her throat, only to be blocked. "Why won't your image get out of my existence, already! I'm tired of looking at your face, at her face!" He roared, bursting into a flurry of attacks. He pushed her back and raised his hand. "Assault this foe before me, Horrific Lance!" He commanded and a massive spear made of bones formed in midair before speeding at the woman.

She gasped in shock and tried to get out of the way, but the spear struck her soundly in the leg before vanishing. A hole going clean through her leg was left in its place. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep fighting.

"W-what the-?" Lloyd asked.

"Who's she? I've never seen her before," Colette said.

"That is the Guardian of Avalon. She is the one that Master Bios has been sent to kill." Alice panted near them. All of them jumped, not aware of her presence and drew their weapons. Her Shade Nightmares watched them all intently, as if daring them to attack their mistress. "I would love to fight you myself, but making that wall took up almost all of my energy. Master Bios needed all of his strength to deal with her."

"Why is Bios going to kill her?" Lloyd asked.

"Because he was ordered to," she answered snidely, as if it was obvious.

"By who?" Sylpher demanded.

Alice smiled sweetly. "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you. Now, I can't have you interrupting their fight, and since I'm in no condition to battle myself, I'll just have my pets here do it for me." Alice weakly waved her rapier towards them and the Shade Nightmares reacted instantly. They slowly crept around the group, circling them like a pack of wolves will circle its prey.

Colette pulled out a magic lens and held it to her eye, examining one of the evanescent creatures. "Shade Nightmare: Classification: Spirit; Strength: Darkness; Weakness: Light," She announced as the magical object did its work.

"Judging from predatory appearance and behavior, attempting to flee would likely result in immediate execution," Presea said, keeping her eyes on one of the black spirits as it circle around them.

"Nightmares are notorious for being vicious and agile. They also work extremely well in groups. Make sure that there is never one unoccupied during the fight. If they double team anyone, then they will be able to defeat us easily," Kratos warned everyone.

As soon as Kratos was done, the Nightmares rushed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Sylvia: You have no heart!**_

_**Huh?**_

_**Sylvia: You don't update for a month, and then when you do update, you leave them with a cliffhanger!**_

_**What can I say, I'm evil. Also, that's just the perfect spot to stop.**_

_**Sylvia: but still**_

_**I AM DONE ARGUING WITH ANOTHER PART OF MY BRAIN! SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE FOR ONCE! IT'S TWO O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING AND I'M FRIGGING TIRED! IF YOU WANT TO BE USEFUL, THEN JUST SHUT UP!**_

_**Good night, everyone. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Review if you wish.**_


	6. Chapter 6: The Temple Avalon

_**I have a very valid excuse this time. I've been gone visiting colleges so I couldn't exactly write as often as I wanted to. Thus, I update a week late. I'm getting better, but I'm still a little slow. I'm sorry. Hopefully my mind speeds back up in the spontaneous inspiration department. That would be so wonderful.**_

…

_**Hmm, shouldn't someone be showing up about now?**_

…

_**Weird. I guess I'll go ahead and respond to anonymous reviews while I'm waiting.**_

_**But I have none. :*( **_

…

_**There's… still no one else here… Hello? **_

_**(Echoing)**_

… _**This sucks, I'm stuck here in front of all these people I've never even met and I'm all ALONE! I'm scared…**_

_**While I go have a mental breakdown at the fact that my mind has failed to supply me with a figment of my imagination to keep up the illusion that I'm not just talking to myself during these AN's, please enjoy the chapter.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 6: The Temple Avalon

The group soon found that the Nightmares were aptly named. They were fast, lithe, ruthless, and very powerful. Kratos was keeping one occupied while Lloyd fought against another. Thomas was barely managing to keep himself from getting torn to shreds by the claws of the third and the last one was facing a dual assault from Sylpher and Presea. Despite having an advantage in numbers, the slightly slower movements of using an ax allowed the Nightmare to be able to hold them off well enough. Sylvia and Colette were standing as far off from the fighting as they could, both preparing spells.

Sylpher grunted as one of the clawed hands of the Nightmare came down on his ax. Presea tried to strike the creature from behind while it was distracted, but the second hand brought a halt to the large weapon as easily as it held back Sylpher's.

"Infernal winds, burn our foes!" Sylvia chanted, "Volcanic Breeze!" A pressurized orb of air formed around the Nightmare in between Sylpher and Presea. Fiery red blades of air began to slash viciously at the spirit-being, a small puff of flame shooting out every time the magic sliced it.

The creature shrieked in agony as its non-existent flesh was torn apart. Its crimson eyes glared as Sylvia as it tossed aside the two axes threatening to sink into its body as it charged at her. Sylvia shrieked as the demonic shadow lunged at her, intent on ripping the one that had dared to injure it so into thousands of bloody ribbons.

"Angel Feathers!" three chakrams covered in angelic light flew past Sylvia and plunged into the dark shadow. An inhuman screech filled the air as the light mana that the weapons were imbued with tore through its body and caused the beast to dissipate into nothingness. Sylvia turned to see Colette behind her.

"T-thanks, Mrs. Aurion," Sylvia said, shaking slightly from the sudden adrenaline rush inspired by the attack.

"You're welcome," Colette smiled brightly, "But we should focus on getting rid of the other three." Sylvia nodded as she turned to Kratos and the Nightmare he dueled. She absentmindedly noticed that her twin and her mother had already gone to aid Lloyd and Thomas. She reached out and manipulated the mana around her as she began to cast her next spell, growing oblivious to the world around her as she deepened her concentration.

Meanwhile, Lloyd and Sylpher did their best to kill their Nightmare. The shadow swept out a claw, aiming to slice open Lloyd's throat, but had to jump away in favor of keeping its head as Sylpher brought his ax down. Lloyd pressed their advantage by aiming a Super Sonic Thrust straight through its chest.

The Nightmare twisted its body out of the way of the stab, flicking its tail out to catch the Eternal Swordsman in the chest. Lloyd was knocked back and Sylpher rushed the slightly off-balance Nightmare. He gave his ax a mighty swing, aiming for the Nightmare's head, but the creature regained its balance faster than Sylpher had thought it could. The Nightmare leapt high into the air to avoid the attack, but it was an instant too late.

Another inhuman screech filled the air as Sylpher's ax lopped off the Nightmare's tail. The Nightmare didn't bother to land gracefully as it descended and instead took to thrashing about, screeching all the while. Sylpher and Lloyd both covered their ears as the creature gave a final ear-splitting cry before fading into the shadows that bore it.

"Can't these things die quietly?" Lloyd asked, checking to make sure his ears weren't bleeding.

"It's probably some benefit of their class or something. If you're too close to them when they let that dying screech, then you'll probably be left wide open for at attack by others," Sylpher moaned, holding his head in an effort to dull the headache that the high-pitched sound had created. He shook his head to clear it. "Anyway, we know their weakness now. That should make the other two a lot easier to kill."

Lloyd looked at the Sage curiously. Sylpher shook his head in amazement at how the man couldn't notice. "When I cut of the Shade Nightmare's tail, it let out that screech and started to writhe in pain before it finally died. That means that it couldn't survive without its tail. Cut of the tail, and they die," Sylpher explained. Lloyd nodded in understanding before running off to help his father deal with his opponent while Sylpher rushed to help Thomas and Presea.

As Lloyd neared Kratos, Sylvia set off another spell. "Lightning Rod!" she called out. A metal spike sprung from the ground directly beneath the Nightmare and drove itself through the shadow's chest, earning a hiss of pain from the beast. Before it could do anything else, electricity streamed from above, sending tens of millions of volts of electricity coursing through its body. A final lightning bolt, larger than the rest, clapped down on the metal rod and shattered it, freeing the Nightmare. Kratos saw his opportunity and drove the Flamberge deeply into its shoulder, wresting another cry of pain.

The Nightmare's eyes seemed to glow with malice as it leapt at Kratos, surprising the Seraph. The deadly sharp claws on the Nightmare's hands and feet latched onto Kratos's arms and legs, straining to pierce the armor he wore. Kratos stifled a hiss of pain as it began to tear at him, raking its claws across his chest and managing to rend the metal protecting him.

Just as it brought back a hand to plunge through his chest and end his life, it let out a howl of pain in an impossibly high tone and fell onto the ground, writhing in pain as it quickly faded into nothingness. Lloyd stood over its body, the severed tail lying at his feet. "Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the thin lines of blood on Kratos's chest.

Kratos nodded, "It didn't manage to cut me very deeply. It was probably just trying to cut through my armor so it could devour my heart. Nightmares are known to have barbaric tendencies, Shade Nightmares even more so." Lloyd paled slightly at this knowledge. "They're also able to attack even as they're dying. What did you do to it that incapacitated it?"

Lloyd grinned, excited to know something the four-thousand-year-old angel didn't. "When Sylpher cut off one of their tails, it just fell to the ground, shrieking. That's what that sound was earlier." Kratos nodded, storing the information for later use. They turned to aid their comrades in the slaying of the final Shade Nightmare, but such help was unnecessary as Colette finished her spell.

"Oh holy rays, cast down thy purifying light…" Colette chanted, angelic feathers swirling around her, "Judgment!" Pillars of light fell from above, striking locations seemingly at random. One final screech filled the air as the remaining Nightmare, weakened from its opponents and Sylvia's spells, burst into vespers of shadows as the angelic spell tore through its body and burned its very essence.

Thomas let out a sigh of relief as his mother used her spell to end the fight. He started to sheath his sword before Presea signaled for him to stop. "There are still more enemies to be dealt with," she told him. He looked at her questioningly before remembering the half-elven necromancer that had set the Nightmares on them in the first place.

Still sore from their fight, the group bravely faced down Alice. Alice was breathing much more easily now, since the fight had given her time to recover from creating that wall down below.

"Alright, there are two ways this can be done. One, you get out of our way and let us kill your master, or you can continue to hamper our progress in your current weakened state and get killed. Which is it?" Kratos told her, the look in his eyes leaving no room for discussion.

Alice just smiled coyly as she glanced down to the heavily damaged arena where Bios and the Guardian of Avalon were fighting. "I don't think those rules apply anymore. I'm sure the fight down there is almost done," she said.

Everyone's attention slowly turned to the arena, their hearts filled with dread. Bios's armor was nearly non-existent now. Only fragments of the bones that had covered his body and a large portion of the skull that covered his facial features remained. Tufts of Jet-black hair stuck out from beneath the remains of the once intimidating helm. His scarlet under-suit that he wore beneath the Necrotic Armor was tattered and blood flowed weakly from the many sword wounds that littered his body. Despite all of this, he still grinned, laughing slightly as the pain sent waves of joy throughout his body.

The Guardian of Avalon wasn't in much better shape. Her leg had long since given out and she had haphazardly plastered a length of bone from the many fragments around the battlefield as an alternative support using some magic. Her movements were still far too slow however. She had less wounds than her opponent, though they were deeper and in more critical areas of her body. Her brown hair was matted with blood as the crimson liquid trickled down the side of her face from a head wound.

Heavily labored pants escaped both combatants' mouths. Bios's mouth twisted into a snarl as his claws were wrapped in a familiar fire the color of deepest ebony. "I'm tired… of seeing your Samael damned face… woman!" he shouted, though it was more of a series of gasps. The flames on his claws climbed higher as he charged his target one last time, an enraged roar coming from his throat.

The Guardian braced herself. She slashed at an opening as the necromancer charged, aiming for his throat. But Bios hadn't been aiming to kill her; he was aiming for her make-shift splint.

The bone shattered and the Guardian fell to the floor with a cry. Bios kept running a small ways before turning around. "Now this time, I want you to stay dead!" he roared as he slashed the air. "Atrum Nex!"

Just like with the Knight outside, the nearly foot-tall flames left the weapon and gathered before the wielder. They quickly formed into a raging, spherical inferno of the same color that rushed unlike before this orb was only one story in diameter. The woman looked on helplessly as the fire reached her.

A deafening explosion shook the temple as the unnatural power erupted from its orb and wrapped itself around the defenseless woman. The room tangibly chilled as the flames consumed heat instead of expelling it. The battered walls around the battlefield crumbled to dust as the fire licked at its base. Everyone gasped as they saw the poor woman consumed in the arte.

Just as quickly as they came, the flames died out. The entire area affected by the explosion was red-hot, while everywhere just outside the reach of the unholy fire was as covered in a thin layer of ice. In the center, a charred black corpse shifted slightly, clinging to life.

"Still… alive… eh?" Bios coughed weakly. He fell to his knees and began hacking his brains out, blood and bits of what might have been his lungs spewing from his maw. He looked up weakly and set a dying glare on the charred remains of the Guardian of Avalon still clinging to life. "Damn it," he choked before flopping to the ground in defeat.

Alice was next to his corpse before any of the group could recover from their shock at the power they had witnessed. She flicked her wrist and another doorway made of roiling black smoke formed in front of her. She turned to face the group as they started to run after her. "Next time we meet, I'll be sure to arrange things to that I could play with you. But Avalon's going to appear soon, so we need to be going. Ta-ta!" she waved before dragging her deceased master into the portal. It closed just as they reached it.

"Damn! She got away!" Sylpher sighed.

"Are you alright?" Colette's voice carried to them. They turned to see the woman looking worriedly at the charred figure on the ground, the Guardian's chest barely moving as she struggled to draw breath. She weakly tried to reach up to Colette.

"R… r… run… the… tem… ple… co… col… lap… ses," she eventually managed to spit out, the words heavily mangled. Her arm fell to the ground limply as a final breath left her body.

As soon as she died, the entire temple began to shake, chunks of the ceiling crashing down as the ancient structure crumbled.

"What's going on? Is it an earthquake?" Sylvia asked as she struggled to stay on her feet and avoid the boulders falling from above.

"This place was built to withstand such things. A mere earthquake couldn't possibly bring the temple down!" Kratos shouted over the noise.

"Now is not the time to be discussing this. We can't stay here, we have to get out!" Presea shouted, herding the twins towards the stairs. The others followed suit, Lloyd turning back to look at his wife who was still standing near the charred body. "Colette, hurry!" He shouted. Colette nodded and picked up the charred corpse. The woman deserved a proper burial, whoever she was.

They ran as fast as they could, doing their best to avoid debris crashing from the ceiling as they navigated out of the crumbling Temple. The undead minions that had hindered them while their master was alive had now turned on each other, ignoring the living people that desperately stumbled to the exit.

They made outside just as the temple collapsed upon itself. But instead of subsiding, the rumbling grew even louder. A loud, deafening groan of earth moving assaulted their eardrums as the ruins of the Temple were consumed by the ground and kicked up a blinding cloud of dirt.

"Everyone, keep running!" Colette's voice rang out over the din. No one took the time to question her command and ran faster than they thought they could. It was impossible to see in the choking cloud of dirt and everyone could feel the disturbed earth stick to the sides of their throats as they breathed. One by one, they emerged from the dust cloud, coughing and hacking, falling to the ground and thanking whatever gods there may be for the clean air they were now breathing.

"Is everyone alright?" Lloyd asked. A chorus of positive responses answered him. They crawled to their feet only to be sent crashing back down as the moving ground shook all the more violently.

Slowly, the top of a very large and beautiful structure made itself visible over the blinding cloud of dirt. Its snow white spires gleamed in the sunlight as its towers rose from the bones of the planet itself. Bounds of Morning Glories choked the windows as the sun graced their petals once more.

Walkways from the central tower led out from and into the side towers, covered in vibrant shades of green as plants grew along their edges. Roses, tulips, and any other flower you could imagine grew rapidly, blooming all at once as they watched in a beautiful display of color and life.

Elegant statues graced the rooftops, depicting a woman in a flowing gown with equally flowing hair crafting various objects and sculptures. In one such statue, she was shown smoothing out a roughly humanoid shape, her hands working detail into the otherwise generic face. In another, she was at a potter's wheel, crafting a small orb that was marred by bizarre shapes.

Finally, the edifice finished rising from the ground, allowing the dust in the air to settle as the group gazed in awe at the ivory structure that now stood before them. It was massive, far larger than the Martel Temple. The entrance was only a hundred feet away, where they would be at least a couple hundred yards from the base of the hill that led to the Martel Temple. Its tallest towered reached high into the sky, basking in the sun's light.

Thomas gawped as he looked up at the beautiful building in front of him. Never had he seen a more magnificent creation before in his life. Surrounding the building was a field of wildflowers, bending slightly under the gentle breeze that had kicked up.

"Whoa…" Sylvia breathed, her eyes as wide as they would go.

"Ditto," her twin agreed.

"It's so beautiful…" Colette gasped.

"Yes, it is," Presea nodded, not taking her eyes off the building before her.

"I've never seen anything like it in my life," Thomas agreed.

"It doesn't look anything like the Martel Temple did," Lloyd said, shocked by its appearance.

"But where did it come from?" Kratos asked, bewildered.

Then, two presences made themselves known to them. The first had mana made of purest light and the other's mana had a very odd feel to it. Everyone jerked around and readied their weapons, since their mana signatures also bore the sickening and metallic feel of the inhuman mana that marked them as Unborn.

A man with one of the brightest wardrobe's and hair even more distinctive than Sylpher's due to the azure coloring stood holding the same scythe as the man that had brought Kratos back.

Next to him, another man covered from head to toe in bandages stood. Only a small tuft of his hair had found its way out to fall just above the only eye that was showing as well. His hair was a red so deep that it was on the borderline to black. The only thing that marked it as red was the slight tinge around the edges where the hairs thinned. His violet eye was fixed resolutely on the building before them, his arms crossed and never blinking.

To everyone's surprise, the two men ignored them. The brightly dressed man had a book that was bound in what looked like human skin, the stark white of the slightly stiff pages was stained an ugly red-brown. "The description matches perfectly," he man droned to his partner.

The bandaged man nodded. "Then the time draws near," he said, his voice deep and languid. He tore his eyes from the building before him to look at the man next to him. "Rather ironic, that Avalon was to be the start, don't you think, King Feral?" he asked.

Feral said nothing in response. He turned to the group, noticing for them for the first time. "It seems they managed to escape the crumbling of the other temple." Feral spoke again, his voice unchanging. He closed the book in his hands and put it beneath his cape, where it vanished. "I'm being summoned. I must go now."

"I thought this meant that we didn't have to listen to him now. Why are to still listening to that bastard?" the second man demanded.

"Because the time is not now. You will know it," Feral said as he vanished into one of the Unborn's portals.

The man left behind glared after his partner for a moment before sighing. He turned to set his unblinking gaze directly upon the group. "You would be fools to raise arms against me," he told them.

"That line has been used before," Lloyd grinned cheekily.

The Unborn man's eye drifted over each of them in turn before coming to settle upon the deceased body of the Guardian of Avalon. The bandages around the lower half of his face seemed to stretch in a way that gave him the appearance of smiling. "Ah, the beautiful irony that is existence," He mused aloud.

Everyone was confused by this. "What are you talking about?" Thomas asked hesitantly.

The mysterious man turned his head to look at the beautiful building before them. "The building that now stands before us is known as the Temple Avalon. It is dedicated to the ancient goddess said to govern over the areas of life and creation. It is a monument to all living things and everything that is made.

"But, death and life share a much closer bond that people may think. They often fail to understand just how close that relationship is. After all, whenever there is death, life must follow."

"That is one twisted philosophy. How can you even _think_ that life must follow death?" Sylvia asked, appalled by the man's proclamation.

He turned back to face her, his violet eye seeming to pierce her soul. "This temple to life and creation was sealed away upon the death of the goddess it worshipped. The death of the Guardian of Avalon has brought it back. With the death of one, so much life and beauty has appeared because of the death of a single woman," he explained, extending a hand to indicate the plants growing in abundance.

"The things before us existed at the time the temple was sealed; otherwise they wouldn't be here upon the return of the temple. Furthermore, an unsealing is different from the creation of this place," Presea countered.

The bandaged man raised his head in surprise at this comment. "Hmm, I suppose your right. But, I suggest you read the stories inside Avalon. I'm sure they can shed some light upon what I've told you," he said calmly.

"How do we know that it isn't a trap?" Kratos asked, glaring at the man.

The man chuckled, closing his eye for the first time since he appeared. Then, he was rushing the Seraph. Kratos swiftly brought his shield up to defend against the punch heading for his face, but the bandaged fist went past the shield and stopped just to the right of Kratos's head.

Another smile moved the bandages on the man's face as his arm curved as if it were a boneless mass of flesh and slammed forcefully into the side of Kratos's head, leaving everyone speechless as they stared at the now-curved arm.

"If I had wanted to kill you, you would already be dead," he chuckled. He then refolded his arms and walked through a portal as it appeared, quickly closing it after him.

"What the hell just happened?" Sylpher demanded, the first to recover from his shock.

"How could his arm bend like that?" Colette gasped.

Kratos stood back up, checking to see if the punch had left a bruise. Surprisingly, it had.

"Okay, the more of these freaks we meet, the more bizarre they are," Thomas said.

"They are indeed endowed with abilities far beyond that of any regular being's. It would seem that they are not any race we have met," Presea theorized.

"All I know is that that guy in the cape – Feral, I think that guy called him – had a really weird feeling coming from him. It felt like he was missing something, like all of him wasn't there," Sylvia shivered.

"He didn't seem that stupid to me," Lloyd said, shrugging.

"No, she means that a part of him was actually missing, not that he was stupid," Sylpher corrected.

"Oh."

"Well then, shall we examine Avalon like he suggested?" Kratos asked, healing the bruise left by the punch.

"Well, before we do anything, we should make sure this woman get a proper burial," Colette turned to pick up the corpse but gasped in surprise to find that it was no longer there. "She's gone!"

"Okay, the more we go along, the more confused I get. What the hell is going on here? I'm sick of not being able to understand this crap!" Thomas shouted.

"Whatever is happening, we must let the others know about this. I do not know what reason they may have had to bring this temple back, but it can't have been good," Presea said.

"Anyway, let's head back to Iselia for now. I'm sure the Professor will want to examine this place and I don't want to have to come back after we've seen everything. We'll head out to Triet tomorrow and pick them up let them know while we head off to Palmacosta. I'm not sure why, but I've got a feeling that Ratatosk knows something about what's going on," Lloyd offered as the plan.

Everyone agreed and they started the trek back to the small village. Thomas, Sylpher, and Sylvia quickly grouped together and chatted animatedly amongst themselves.

"Man, Avalon sure was beautiful," Thomas said.

"Yeah, it was. Did you see all the flowers blooming? That place must be enchanted to allow that. There's no way they could all bloom at once," Sylvia said.

"And the stonework was incredible! It was like it was carved out of pure ivory! I bet dwarves built the place," Sylpher awed.

A thought seemed to strike Thomas. He quickly looked back at the building fading in the distance. "Hey, did anyone else think the statues on the rooftops looked kinda familiar?" He asked uncertainly.

"What do you mean?" Sylvia asked.

"Hmm, yeah, they did. They kinda looked like that Guardian lady that Bios killed. Think they're related?" Sylpher thought aloud.

"That's ridiculous. That weird guy said that the temple was built to honor a goddess. Avalon was brought back by the Guardian's death and everyone knows you can't kill a goddess," Sylvia reasoned.

"But still, I wonder…" Thomas trailed.

They trailed in silence for a short while. A conversation started amongst the older portion of the group and Thomas went up to investigate, leaving the twins behind to their own thoughts.

After a few minutes, Sylvia groaned in frustration. "Okay, I just can't get that out of my head!" she practically shrieked.

"Huh? What are you talking about, sis?" Sylpher asked her.

"What that weird guy said keeps popping into my head."

"Whenever there is death, life must follow.' Yeah, that does sound kinda odd to me, too,"

"I just don't get what he was saying. Life and death are total opposites, there is no way they can have a relationship like that. What kind of twisted philosophy is that?" Sylvia fumed.

"Sylvia, just forget about it. The guy's probably a nutcase. I mean, he never blinked. That's not normal," Sylpher said, putting a hand on his sister's shoulder.

Sylvia sighed dejectedly. "You're probably right. But he must be pretty wacked up to come up with something like that."

Sylpher grinned, "He associates with Bios, doesn't he? Anyone who would be willing to spend a minute with that maniac has to be few slices short of a whole loaf of bread,"

"What are you talking about? Alice was far from stupid and she was being trained by him."

"Oh yeah," Sylpher said, "Well, I still say he was crazy."

"But… he seemed pretty sure of himself. What if he was right?" Sylvia mumbled, too quietly for her brother to hear.

They then looked up and noticed they had started to fall behind and the two hurried to make up the distance between them and the others.

"Hey, who do you think that guy dressed up in white and blue was?" Lloyd asked everyone.

"I don't know. The book he had was kind of creepy, though," Thomas said.

"I believe that bandaged man called him 'Feral'," Kratos said.

"Yes. The man wearing the cape was referred to as King Feral," Presea confirmed.

"He didn't seem that ferocious. He actually looked rather bored," Sylpher commented.

"Yeah, but that book says something different about him. It was bound with human skin and the ink in there was dried blood," Sylvia said.

"Really? How could you tell?" Colette asked her.

"Once, when Sylpher got a nosebleed, the cloth he used to keep the blood from going everywhere got put in a corner and was forgotten. It was left there for a week or two and by the time it was rediscovered, the blood had dried. It was the same shade of reddish-brown as the ink in that book," Sylvia explained.

"The pages were also far too stiff to be made from conventional paper. Whatever it was, the book was far from normal," Presea added.

"What do you think was written in it?" Thomas asked.

Everyone fell silent as they thought.

"Perhaps it was a book of prophecies. Feral did say a description within matched Avalon," Kratos offered.

"That would make sense, but we can't be sure. Besides, it doesn't really matter what's in that book," Lloyd said.

"I agree. It's pointless to waste time wondering about something that you might never know. What I'm more concerned about is if he was an angel. After all, he did have light-based mana," Sylpher agreed, putting his hands behind his head.

Everyone turned to Kratos, who took no notice. "His mana was far to aligned with light to have been an angel's. Besides, I am certain that he would have been a face that I would recognize instantly if he was an angel."

"I'm not sure why, but when I saw him, I couldn't help but think of the man that had brought Kratos back. Perhaps they're related?" Colette thought.

"Are you kidding me, Mom? That guy and Feral were total opposites! The guy that brought Kratos back was a demon in human form," Thomas swiftly answered.

"Whatever the case may be, he is an enemy. One day we will have to fight him," Presea stated. Everyone fell silent after this. They continued their way back to Iselia, reflecting upon everything that had happened that day.

* * *

The man sighed contentedly as he watched the small group of warriors make their way back to their village from his vantage point atop the cliff. A clever grin was spread widely across his face as he watched them go. "Just as I planned," he murmured. An even wider smile plastered itself across his features. "But then again, things always go as I plan."

His voice was soft and kind, but held the tone of one who expected his commands to be followed. Hair that was painted a royal purple fell down his head in locks, framing his far-too-intelligent eyes. He was a young man, but his eyes were as calculating as a well-experienced scam artist's and held a depth of wisdom and knowledge that went far beyond his apparent youth.

He looked to the newly raised temple, shining in the light of the sun. "First, Bios arrives searching for his book to find that it had been destroyed, then the group shows up to kill him and learns of the Unborn, after which they have their first experience battling some Knights, and then they arrive in time to see Bios kill the demi-goddess that we set in place to keep the temple of Psyche sealed. On that note, it's so good to see Avalon once more. She always did have the nicest temples," He said, speaking to absolutely no one.

He sat down, inadvertently kicking a rock, and clapped his hands, rubbing them together vigorously like a conman that was just about to put the finishing touches on scamming some poor sap into his scheme. "Well, now our story truly begins! I can't wait for what is to come. Oh, the incredible things Fate has in store for these people. I'm shaking with anticipation!"

And suddenly the strange man was gone. Nothing there betrayed the fact that he had ever been there. The dirt hadn't been stirred and not a single blade of grass was out of place. Even the rock he had kicked was back to where it was.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**There, the chapter is done. Don't bother trying to figure who the guy at the end is. I don't have everything about him planned out yet. But remember him, he is important. **_

…

_**And there is still no one here besides me.**_

…

_**I FEEL SO ALONE! (sniff)**_

…

_**Now, I would like to leave you with a short and very heartfelt message. **_

_**REVIEW MY STORY, DAMN IT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IT CAN HELP MY IMAGINATION AND MY FEELINGS! YOUR OPINIONS MATTER TO ME A LOT!**_

_**I don't have to write this story, I have a lot of things I could be doing and I barely have time with visiting colleges and things like that and all this other stuff right now. I sometimes stay up really late just so I can work on my next chapter **_**a little bit**_**, and all I ask in return are a few measly words written in these things called reviews from you people. **_

_**I'm not trying to say that I get no reviews whatsoever. I get reviews, though few and far between. Except for a very great person by the penname of Dr. Bob, I don't have any consistent reviewers. Some individuals have told me that they lead very busy lives and can't review every chapter and I understand that. I have nothing against them. I just want someone out there to join those few people who have taken it upon themselves to try to save what little sanity I have by giving me suggestions or just taking time out of their life to say to me "This is a great story!" or point out a problem they noticed or something they didn't like. **_

_**It takes next to no time out of your life. I'm not asking for a whole essay on what's bad and what's good in my story. I'm not even asking for you to like my story. All I want is your opinion. A single sentence is all that's necessary. Please, that's all I'm asking for. **_

_**If you do that, you will make a stressed out and slightly discouraged person very happy.**_

…

_**And also make said person not so alone due to a lack of talking with himself.**_

_**Anyway, till next time. Review, please. I can't offer anything substantial in return, but I can offer my deep gratitude. **_


	7. Chapter 7: A Wyrd Noble

_**I have three reasons for the lateness of the chapter. Reason 1: I got a sudden workload at school which consumed my free time. Reason 2: I got contracted a severe case of the worst diseases known to authors: Writer's Block. I despise Writer's Block. And I'm so close to one of my favorite parts. Reason 3: due to senioritus, I procrastinated on a major paper and have had to do it during the time which I would normally write. Life sucks.**_

_**On another note, my plans for this story will make it a very long one. I don't mean like fifty chapters, I mean like one hundred. Possibly longer.**_

_**Thank you once more to all who have reviewed. I'll even single you out so you feel special (or embarrassed. Meh). Thank you to Adriannu255, SymphoniaFreak, Kazen 0, oursolemnhour49, 0, and Dr. Bob.**_

_**Bios: You're getting rather carried away with this.**_

_**:D Huzzah! I have a random figment of my imagination back in my head to cover up my lack of sanity! THANK YOU, GOD! (Hugs Bios)**_

_**Bios: O.O OH DEAR GODS, IT BURNS! GET THIS GUY OFF OF ME!**_

_**Anonymous Reviews!**_

_**Kazen 0: I'm happy that you decided my story is worth reviewing, though I'm sure my pathetic begging and long winded speech had something to do with it. I'm happy that you think my story is great. As for what's going on with Feral, well, we all know he's a nutcase, an insanely powerful nutcase with severe personality issues. And for what's going to happen to Kratos, we'll just have to wait and see.**_

_**0: I'm glad that you think my story is great! As for your question, there is much controversy over that. If you haven't seen the good ending (the one where you don't let Lloyd get any cores besides Lumen's) then you may not know that Emil returned to Symphonia. Some believe Ratatosk completely separated himself from Emil and others believe that Emil is still Ratatosk it's just that Ratatosk now plays a much smaller part in Emil's person. I believe that Emil is still Ratatosk since the scenario is just like with "Ratatosk's Core" being on Marta. Emil is still a summon spirit, since he had always been one and just didn't know it at the beginning of the sequel. So he is basically imitating a human life span, leaving most of his powers in the core that was placed on Richter's head. That's my belief. I hope that clears that up.**_

… _**Gasp! I got **_**two **_**anonymous reviews! Yay! **_

_**Anyway, I'm sorry 'bout that Bios, I got a little carried away.**_

_**Bios: Shut up, I'm trying to think of the proper way to torture you. Hmm, maybe I could peel the skin from your bones while pouring salt on the exposed flesh. No, that won't do, it's far too mild.**_

… _**I just pissed off another being that is more than willing to end my existence merely because I did something that he did not like. I seem to be good at that.**_

_**Bios: Indeed you are. Hmm, a proper punishment…Might as well make it especially bad for making this chapter so late…**_

_**You know what? I'm not going to wait for him to figure one out. To my chapter, onward to the entertainment of those who read my tale. Little short, but Writer's Block eventually beat my desire to write more. **_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 7: A "Wyrd" Noble

Exhausted, the group trudged into Iselia. A funeral procession for the unfortunate people that had been killed in the Flesh Golem incident was on its way out of the village. After telling the bewildered villagers about what had happened, several people were sent to see if a giant temple rally had appeared where their beloved Martel Temple used to be. Soon after they went to their separate houses to rest up and prepare for the journey that they would begin in the morning.

For most of the group, the night was too long, filled with images of a cackling Bios rip the dead Guardian of Avalon to shreds while his body decayed before their eyes. Flashes of the tell-tale darkness of a Shade Nightmare haunted the corners of their vision, making their hearts stop for an instant only to begin pounding all the more furiously. Needless to say, it was not the most restful night.

But still they forced themselves out of bed early in the morning to prepare for their journey. They had met up just in front of the entrance before they left. But before they could leave, a man stopped them.

"Excuse me; you wouldn't happen to be heading to the House of Salvation to the south of here, would you?" a man in a royal purple suit asked. He wore royal blue silk gloves and a royal blue shirt beneath the suit's swallow-tail jacket. His hair and shoes matched the color of the suit. His eyes were a profound blue color and held far too much knowledge in them for someone having such a young appearance.

"Well, we are heading south. Do you need to go to the House of Salvation?" Lloyd asked.

The man nodded. "Yes, I do. If it's not too much of an inconvenience, would you mind if I came along?" He requested. The entire time he spoke his back was held in a straight posture with his arms folded behind his back. The way he carried himself gave off the impression that he was constantly inspecting everything around him.

Lloyd shrugged. "Sure, I don't mind. Is that alright with everyone else?"

"I'm fine with it," Thomas said.

"We don't care," the twins chimed.

"Of course he can come with us," Colette said, smiling brightly.

"I see no problem with the notion," Kratos said.

"I also do not have any objections to this man accompanying us," Presea finished.

The man bowed. "Thank you so much. I have heard rumors that some abnormally strong monsters had begun to appear to the south and I was worried that I might meet an ill fate by their claws if I should go alone. My name is Wyrd and I hope that our days together are ones to remember."

"I hope we get along well too. Alright everyone, let's go," Lloyd said. With that, they embarked on their journey, the finely dressed Wyrd in tow.

"I am glad that Fate ordained us to meet this day," Wyrd announced.

"You think that we were supposed to meet?" Sylvia asked.

"Yes. If we had not met, I may have been forced to travel to the House of Salvation on my own. As you can see, I am ill-suited for any combat that may occur. I'm glad that Fate has seen fit to give me some strong companions for my travels," Wyrd explained.

"It sounds to me like you're a fatalist. After all, you keep giving Fate credit for everything," Sylvia commented.

Wyrd put his hand beneath his chin. "Hmm, a fatalist, eh? That title suits me just fine," he said thoughtfully.

Lloyd blinked vacantly. "Um, what's a fatalist?"

"A fatalist is someone who believes everything that happens in life is inevitable or that Fate dictates every event that takes place," Sylvia explained.

"Oh, well that makes a lot more sense than what I thought it meant," Lloyd responded.

Wyrd asked curiously, "What did you think it meant?"

"I thought it meant that he thought that everything would die so there is no point in life," Lloyd shrugged.

"If it meant that, no one would want to be called a fatalist," Sylvia said.

Wyrd nodded in agreement. "Indeed."

Monsters attacked regularly throughout the day, only to be easily killed by the group. None of them were strange or abnormally strong. Wyrd had said that he had only heard rumors, but he felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

Eventually, the sun finished its long trek across the sky and sank beneath the horizon. By then, camp had been set up and dinner was being served. Sylvia had cooked curry and was handing the dish out to each member of the party.

The last in line was Wyrd, who thanked the girl before she sat down next to Thomas and her brother nearby. She picked up her own plate and began to eat, her infamous smile barely restrained.

Sylpher saw her smile and sighed while rolling his eyes and set his plate down. "What did you do this time, Sylvia?" he whispered.

She feigned innocence. "What do you mean, brother?" she asked sweetly, desperately trying to hold down the mischievous smile that was trying to worm its way onto her face.

"Sylvia, we all know your history with pranks. What did you do to the man's curry?" Thomas said between gulps of food.

Sylvia faked a small gasp of pain and put her hand to her heart, as if it was hurting. "I'm shocked that you would think I would do something to the food a man I barely even know is going to eat," she sniffed.

"C'mon Sylvia, cut the charade. What did you do?" Sylpher pressed.

Sylvia sighed in defeat. "All right, all right, I'll tell you guys. I slipped a bunch of extra Red Satay into his plate of curry."

Sylpher and Thomas blanched at this news and quickly turned to see Wyrd bringing a bite of curry into his mouth. Before they could warn the man, he had popped the food into his mouth and began to chew with relish. All three watched him expectantly, waiting for his mouth to start burning violently from the raw Red Satay that had been put in his food.

Wyrd soon swallowed without trouble and kept eating. Nothing happened. There was no shout of pain, no cry of surprise; the man just kept eating his curry, absolutely nothing wrong with it. Sylpher and Thomas turned to glare at a confused Sylvia. "You put Red Satay into his food, huh?" Thomas asked flatly.

Sylvia nodded. "Yeah, I did. I put almost an entire handful in it. I don't get how he isn't in tears from how hot his curry should be." She scratched her head in confusion.

Sylpher picked up his food and started eating. "Yeah, right. I should have known you'd make us think that you ha-aaaaah!" Sylpher suddenly spat out the bite he had taken and started to fan his tongue frantically. "Wha th ha, Sy-via? Ya pu the spis inta ma foo whi I was dis-ra-ed!" he managed to shout past the frantic attempt to cool the raging fire in his mouth. Sylvia just gaped at her brother in confusion and amazement while everyone else stopped eating to watch the spectacle that Sylpher had become in his urgent quest to keep his tongue from burning up in the aftermath of the Red Satay that had been in his food.

"I didn't think the food was that spicy," Lloyd chuckled, wathing the young fourth-elf in his attempts.

"Sylvia, did you pour Red Satay into your brother's food while he wasn't looking?" Presea demanded, looking at her daughter sternly. Sylvia shook her head meekly, still trying to figure out how the spices had gotten into Sylpher's food. She then noticed that only a single bite had been taken from his plate and her eyes flashed over to Wyrd's dish, which was half-eaten. Suddenly, it all clicked in her head.

Wyrd turned to her, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "Yes, Miss Sage?" he said, a smile spread across his lips.

She just blinked in amazement. Slowly, she raised a finger to point at the nobleman. "You switched plates with Sylpher, didn't you? That's how he ended up with the booby-trapped curry, isn't it?" she asked hesitantly. Sylpher managed a glare at both Sylvia and Wyrd while still fanning his mouth frantically.

Wyrd's smile brightened as he returned to his, or what was once Sylpher's, plate of curry. "Figured it out then, have you? Yes, I switched my plate of curry with your brother's when I had noticed you putting more Red Satay in it." Sylpher gave him the best glare he could manage while employing his new tactic of taking deep, slow breaths to avoid agitating his melting tongue. "You were quite discreet about it, so I'm sure no one else noticed," he told her.

He pulled out a small hunk of bread and tossed it to Sylpher, who was now gulping down water from a canteen that Colette had given him in a futile attempt to quench the burning sensation tearing his mouth apart. "Don't drink water, lad, it makes it worse. Eat some bread if you want to cool off your taste buds," he advised before returning to his stolen plate of food.

Sylpher wolfed down the bread and relaxed as he let out a moan of relief. He put his hands together and bowed to Wyrd in a gesture of gratitude for the help. Presea shook her head at her son's continued antics before turning to Wyrd. "I apologize for Sylvia's foolish prank, sir. I'll make sure she doesn't do something like that again," she apologized to the man. Sylvia ducked her head in shame at the harshness of the last sentence.

Wyrd shook his head and waved away her apology. "It's perfectly fine. Children of her age often acquire a mischievous streak. Indeed, her prank would have succeeded if I didn't have such sharp eyesight. I would have switched the plate with hers, but she didn't present an opportunity. Perhaps she'll think twice about trying to prank a stranger next time. Fate isn't always so kind as to have someone as forgiving as me be the one to catch you," He said, winking at Sylvia.

* * *

The rest of the night was uneventful for most of them. Sylpher and Thomas had kept making comments about how incredible it was that Wyrd had caught Sylvia preparing her prank and had even managed to switch plates with Sylpher without anyone noticing, much to Sylvia's chagrin. It had been the first time ever that her victim had caught her preparing a prank, and the two boys couldn't help but make sure that Sylvia knew it.

Eventually, she formed ice over their mouths to keep them quiet and managed to drift off to sleep while they tried to melt the ice without burning themselves. Luckily, neither was injured too badly.

As the sun cast its golden light upon the earth once more, the group awoke and quickly packed camp, eating a light breakfast as they worked. Soon, everything was in order and they headed out.

The morning proceeded normally, periodically interrupted by monster attacks. However, about halfway through the day, the monsters seemed to just disappear. The group still kept up its guard, however, not trusting the break in enemies.

Lloyd quickly glanced around, confusion plain on his face. "I just don't get it," he said, "Why would the monsters just vanish?"

"Wyrd did say he heard rumors of abnormally strong monsters to the south. It is possible that they have forced the monsters that usually inhabit this area to flee," Presea offered.

"But we don't even know if there is anything strange out here. We haven't run into anything that isn't supposed to be here," Colette told her.

"I believe we just met with some," Kratos growled as he unsheathed the Flamberge. Everyone looked where he was glaring and gasped as five creatures crept from the shadows of the nearby forest.

Their skin was an earthy brown and parts of it were clearly rotting away, bleached white bones shining from the folds of stinking flesh. One of them was a small lizard-like humanoid with wings, its empty eye sockets gazing intently ahead. The remains of wings were folded neatly behind its back, strips of the membrane that once stretched across it stubbornly clinging to the skeletal protrusion. A half-rotted tail stuck out from behind its legs, giving the creature just enough balance to walk. It opened its mouth and let out a wheezing hiss at the scent of the group. The other creatures were similar to the first, though one wore a rusted breastplate and rusted helm designed to sit atop its reptilian head. It wielded an ancient-looking blade and a shield as rusty as its armor. It carried itself with more grace and authority than the others, marking it as the leader.

"My god…" Sylpher breathed, Sylvia gagging from the stench that wafted from the beasts.

"W-What are those things?" Colette stammered, pulling out her chakrams.

"They're not any kind of monsters I've ever seen, that's for sure," Thomas said.

"Get ready, here they come!" Presea warned.

As silent as shadows, the beasts rushed from the cover of the trees and pounced upon them. Wyrd retreated behind Colette and Sylvia while they provided support to the rest as they fought desperately against these bizarre monsters.

Sylpher pulled his ax up to catch his reptile's mouth as it tried to clamp down on his shoulder. The beast quickly released its bite and swiped at the boy with its claws. Sylpher dodged and planted a kick right into his foe's chest, throwing the beast off balance. He rushed up and put all his strength into a bone-shattering strike with his ax, forcing the creature to the ground. He quickly kicked the beast back into the air and gave his weapon another mighty swing, adding a surge of mana to produce a shockwave. "Total Annihilation!"

Without pausing for breath, he leapt into the air, his ax held high over his head, the weapon becoming a flaming tool of death as he poured fire mana into the strike. The ax made a sickening crunch as it sank into the creature's body. The fire around the ax then released itself in a scorching inferno before a plume of fire erupted, forcing the ax out. "Fell Impact!" Sylpher panted as he wiped the sweat off his brow. No creature would be able to get up after-

Sylpher blanched as the lizard-creature slowly put its arms beneath its body and forced itself back up. "What the hell? It's getting back up!" he shouted in shock.

"Then keep beating it down until it stays there!" Thomas shouted as he parried a swipe from his own monster.

"Easier said than done!" Sylpher shouted back.

Thomas caught the creature's claws on his sword once more before shoving back against the monster. He took a deep breath before letting loose a barrage of sword swings at the monster, leaving roughly six shallow wounds across its chest. Then he leapt forward and plunged the Vorpal Sword deep into its chest. "Winter's Bite!" he roared before punching the monster in the face and kicking it in the gut to free his weapon.

The monster knelt on the ground and shook its head before turning back to face Thomas. Before either of them could move, Colette's voice shouted out "Grand Cross!" and a massive cross made of light mana appeared where the monster stood. It pulsed violently before shattering, forcing the creature back into the ground where it lay still. Thomas turned to look at his mom and flashed her a thankful smile before rushing to help his friend.

Colette ran a little closer so she could use her chakrams to help Lloyd fight his monster while Sylvia finished her spell. "Volcanic Breeze!" she cast, the deadly magic forming around the creature that her mother had chosen. Presea nodded to her daughter as the monster fell to the ground without making any effort to get back up.

Meanwhile, Kratos was finding a surprising match against the armored monster. Though it looked like it had long been dead, it was rather lithe. Its attacks were brutal and swift, though it left many openings. Even more surprising, the armor and shield were very durable, despite having the appearance of being thousands of years old. The creature fought mostly on the defensive, and was obviously very skilled at it. The creature never gave the seraph a chance to get past its armor or sword.

Sylvia was deep in concentration as she gathered mana for another spell, pushing the sounds of the fight out of her mind. Suddenly, she had inspiration during the middle of the incantation. She smirked as she whispered, "Don't underestimate me!" The runic circle around her feet changed from a fiery red to a dirt brown as her chant changed. "…Tear them to shreds!" she shouted as she let loose the charged mana. "Mass Grave!"

Razor sharp pillars of earth erupted from the ground, ignoring her friends and family as her new spell tore the remaining creatures apart. The ring leader was mostly protected by its armor and suffered minimal damage from the spell. However, it was stunned by the sudden magical assault and left itself wide open for Kratos to strike with deadly accuracy and cleave the beast in half.

"What the hell were those things?" Thomas panted, sheathing his sword.

"They most certainly were not natural occurrences," Presea said.

"Just as I suspected, there were dangerous monsters. But, I'm afraid that they weren't ordinary monsters," Wyrd mused aloud. Everyone's attention snapped to him in an instant. "But to think he would actually send out the Minions to search for them. I didn't think he would be this serious this time around. Knowing him, he's going to give us all hell before he actually does what he wants to." Wyrd sighed, "It's a good thing I made a plan for this. But the real question is if my plan turns out to be a part of his. I wouldn't put it past him to be making it up as he goes, either."

"What are you talking about?" Lloyd asked.

Wyrd smiled widely like a Cheshire cat. "I'm afraid that our time together must end now. If I dabble too much more, then I could alter things too much. I wouldn't want to break my own rule, after all." He turned and bowed to them all deeply. "I thank you deeply for everything you've done for me." He said to them.

"Everything we've done…?" Colette repeated, "Are you planning on going off alone? What if you run into more of those things?"

Wyrd just chuckled at the question. "Don't worry about that. I'm allowed to meddle in the affairs of humanity a little more, so I'll leave you with this. Remember these words, because they will hold a hand in your futures.

"A demon and his son rampage across a desert; two children are bathed in the blood of their friends and family; a foe wears the skin of a friend; a man without emotion becomes the embodiment of negative emotions; a king erases the lies of the past; a child of the trembling earth shatters a young boy's reality; and the wolf that thinks itself a sheep will come to terms with what it is. The going will be incredibly hazardous, but you can pull through it. Anything I can say to describe the terrors that you will be put through will be an understatement of fantastic proportions. I bid you all a fond farewell. Don't worry, because Fate has a plan, as it always does."

And suddenly, the noble was gone. Everyone gasped and looked around frantically, but there was nothing but the corpses of the creatures that were rapidly turning to dust.

Thomas blinked stupidly before looking back to where Wyrd was once standing. "I'm lost now. I have no clue what just happened and all that that guy left us was some cryptic crap before vanishing into literally nothing."

"Indeed, it is rather similar to when Kratos would help us out occasionally," Presea noted.

"Yeah, except he's a lot more specific and a lot more vague at the same time. Whatever it all means, it sounds like it's going to be really bad," Lloyd said.

"I find it more alarming that the man was able to vanish completely without a trace. I'm beginning to wonder if 'Wyrd' wasn't a noble at all," Kratos said.

"I think we should be questioning if he was even human," Sylpher said.

"If he wasn't, then that would explain how he caught me," Sylvia added. She was still a little irked about the incident with the booby-trapped curry.

"He kept mention somebody when he was talking to himself before he left. He never said a name, but it sounded like whatever was going to happen wouldn't be good. And what did he mean by 'the wolf that thinks itself a sheep'?" Lloyd wondered.

"Trying to decipher what that man said here will do us no good. I suggest that we move on and wait until we have reached the House of Salvation before discussing this further," Kratos offered. With that, they were off, keeping their eyes peeled for more of the creatures.

* * *

William FlameSword gazed at his master in open surprise. "You want _me_ to go wake _whom_?" he asked, disbelief painting his voice.

Xeralisk sighed in exasperation. "You know very well that you are the only being in existence that has the ability to wake him, William," he sighed.

Wililam's fists clenched at the mere thought of meeting that foul creature. Still, he could not disobey a direct order from Xeralisk. "If that is your will, Master," he said, bowing deeply. With a swish of his cloak, he turned and summoned a portal. He paused for a moment before entering it. "He will be hungry when he awakens. And I haven't fed myself in millennia," he started.

Xeralisk sighed once more, knowing where the conversation was going. He slouched in his throne in the large and grand room made entirely of black marble. Torches flickered on the walls, giving light to the area while it was still enshrouded in darkness. Cracks were apparent all throughout the room, as if it hadn't been occupied for thousands of years. All the while, there was still a certain elegance carried throughout the ancient building. "Of course you can feed, William. Just don't let any of them survive. You wouldn't want them to go through the same thing your mother did," he conceded.

William turned back to face the skeleton. His scarf had fallen from his face to reveal the razor sharp teeth of a carnivore, stained an ugly yellow and set into a manic smile. A gleam in his eyes completed the picture of a monster in the body of a man. "Thank you, Grandfather," he growled eagerly, his voice rumbling like an explosion heard from far away. He quickly pulled the scarf back over his mouth before rushing through the portal and off to his mission.

The skeletal grimace on Xeralisk's face seemed to stretch into a smile. "The future will be quite colorful." Xerlaisk flicked his hand and produced a black rose seemingly from nowhere. "But the usual colors of yellows and blues and greens have become so boring." He brought the rose to his nose and smelled it, causing the flower to slowly shrivel and die, the color fading from its stem, though the petals retained their bleak visage. "A flower for Triet," he cackled, tossing the dead flower to the ground. "I have a new color for the future. And that color is…" Imaged flashed as the rose hit the ground. A whirlwind of red and black, images of creatures slaying thousands and consuming their corpses before their blood was even cold, scenes of pain and agony, of people dying before their loved ones. Everything that was to come in the near future was shown in an instant. The last image was of one eye with a golden iris and snake-like pupil, and next to it was an empty socket, a red orb of light representing the pupil of the missing eye, watching it all with cold indifference. "… Crimson red!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_***Dramatic music* Bwahahahaha! What's going to happen? Only I (and a select few friends that I have given a glimpse of the future to) know what it all means!**_

"_**Wyrd" is pronounced pretty much like "weird". It's an ancient Anglo-Saxon word. And yes, he is the mysterious dude from last chapter.**_

_**Bios: I've almost figured out your punishment.**_

_**Let me guess, you're going to slow roast me on a spit over an open flame while giving me a thousand cuts with a razor blade before dousing me with sulfuric acid and then skinning me alive while dumping pounds of rock salt upon my various wounds.**_

_**Bios: … Actually, that's not a bad idea. I think it might beat mine.**_

_**What was your idea?**_

_**Bios: tying you to a chair and forcing you to watch marathons of various toddler shows such as Barney and Teletubbies.**_

_**o.O um, uh, y-yeah, that's definitely a bad idea! I mean, t-that can't possibly be more torturous than my plan. Who could be tortured by something stupid like t-that? I mean, pfft, come on! Who would be afraid to watch something as horrifying – I mean, comical as a toddler's show?**_

_**Bios: Hmm. (narrows eyes)**_

_**(gulps) Please just kill me now.**_

_**Bios: We'll go with my plan (pulls out rope and ties me to chair, then drags me away)**_

_**NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo… (screams of agony and pain fade into distance as Barney theme song begins playing)**_

_**Bios: (comes back) Anyway, review. Unless you want to suffer his fate as well, to which I will most happily oblige. Now, where does he keep the popcorn, no good show is complete without popcorn. **_

_**(from the background) IT BURNS! IT BURNS! WHATEVER MERCY MAY BE LEFT IN THE HEAVENS ABOVE, RAIN DOWN ON ME NOW AND JUST END IT! AAAAAAAAH!**_

_**Bios: … that's actually rather impressive considering I gagged him. I love my plans.**_


	8. Chapter 8: Dragonhide Caston

_NOTE: what was going to be the beginning of this chapter turned out to be an epic ending for the previous chapter. As a result, I have added it to the end. Please go back and read it if you haven't done so already. Edit was made on December 22nd, 2010._

_**Christmas Break was fun! I hope everyone had a merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or whatever. and I also hope everyone has a happy new year! Now, I know I haven't been keeping to my update schedule, and I have made a decision. I will update every two weeks to give myself more time to write this story and others and yeah, you get the gist of it.**_

_**I will do my best to keep to this new schedule!**_

_**Wyrd: Barring any and all plans that you have made, of which there are quite a few. Or anything Fate has planned for you.**_

_**Hello, Wyrd. In my reviews, I've received a few accusations of your abilities and or origins. Care to comment?**_

_**Wyrd: They may believe what they wish about me. All will be revealed in time. **_

_**I figured as much. Are you sure that it was safe for you to give those hints at what will happen?**_

_**Wyrd: I left out quite a bit. Plus I didn't give any exact details. By the way, how are you holding up after Bios's torture session?**_

… _**(Shivers in fear) please don't talk about that…**_

_**Wyrd: You really dislike toddler's shows, don't you?**_

_**The stupidity and retardation, the purity and innocence of it all! It makes me sick! I'm not going back into that place! I have to escape! Flee from the horrors of the purple dinosaur!**_

_**Anonymous reviews**_

_**None… oh well.**_

_**And we move on to Triet! Glorious Triet! The evil plans and terrible happenings that have manifested themselves and festered their gory scenes in the deepest recesses of my mind will finally come to fruition!**_

_**Wyrd: It is so sad that such terrible and horrific things must happen. Sometimes plans are… very costly.**_

_**Oh, shut up, it's not like it's your fault. After all, I'm the one that made the story and you and everything that will happen. **_

_**Wyrd: that is true, but all that does is make the horrors reflect yourself.**_

_**You have a point. Anyway, this chapter will introduce a familiar face to readers of the original story. He's a personal favorite of mine. And I gave him a cool new nickname!**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 8: "Dragonhide" Caston

The sun beat heavily down upon the scorched sand of the Triet Desert. Slowly, seven figures cloaked in robes made of desert reeds to keep away the heat of the sun trudged across the barren landscape, a large, dog-like creature. They all regularly took drinks from their canteens, and occasionally stopped at a cactus to fill them up.

The desert sun was merciless, sapping their strength and vitality, making them be aware only of how hot it was. Most of them were listless and walked forwards and drank from their canteens as if in a stupor. But some of them forced themselves to stay vigilant so that they weren't caught off guard from a sudden monster attack.

"It's so dang hot," Sylpher panted, taking a gulp from his canteen.

"I thought these desert cloaks were supposed to help keep us cool. They don't seem to be working very well," Sylvia agreed.

"It's not like it's your first time going through the desert, guys. We're almost to the Triet Ruins, hang in there a little longer," Thomas said to them, doing his best to keep a look out for enemies.

"Yeah, but it's like, ten degrees hotter than it normally is out here. Even the cacti are giving less water than they normally would," Sylpher mumbled, barely able to summon the energy necessary to speak.

"Indeed, the temperature of the desert seems to have increased. Is it possible that something could be influencing the natural climate to cause this?" Presea asked. Even the female lumberjack was feeling the effects of the heat.

Kratos shook his head, completely alert. He had shifted into his angelic form days ago to avoid the heat. At least one of them had to be fully alert in the unforgiving climate. "I doubt that that is the case. There are few things that could influence this area this much. I believe only Efreet, Ratatosk, or one of the Centurions could possibly do this," He told her.

Suddenly, Colette gave a small cheer, her radiant smile not dimmed in the slightest by the extreme desert conditions. "I can see the ruins! We should be there in about another hour," she announced. The teenagers in the back gave a small cheer, though it was void of the exuberance they no doubt felt at the news.

Lloyd, however, was uncharacteristically silent. He plodded on mechanically like the others, but it was less from the heat and more from being deep in thought. Colette saw this and walked up to her husband. "Lloyd, is something wrong?" she asked, curious as to what had made him so contemplative.

Lloyd looked at her and smiled, but his eyes showed that his mind was still miles away. "It's nothing important, it's just what Wyrd said before he vanished. It started bothering me lately and no matter how hard I try I just can't stop thinking about it," he told her.

"Oh," was Colette's response. She was silent for a minute before deciding to ask a second question. "What exactly about it is bothering you? After all, most of what he said didn't make sense."

"It's that 'a demon and his son rampage across the desert' part that's got me," Lloyd told her, "The second half of the sentence is easy, but the first half makes no sense."

Colette thought about it for a moment herself. It did sound odd. There was no way that a demon could even be in Symphonia anymore, since the way to the Ginungagap was sealed, along with the door to Neiflheim itself. But that much was obvious, so she didn't understand why it bothered him so much. When she voiced this, Lloyd chuckled slightly.

"Yeah, I know that, but that's only half of it. What Wyrd said was 'a demon and _his son_'. At first, I ignored that part too, but now that I've thought about it, it makes even less sense. How can a demon have a son?"

Colette was silent. The thought confused her as well. Colette smiled to herself as she felt pride welling up at her husband's noticing something that nobody else did. Professor Sage would have been proud, though she would have brought it up a lot sooner than him, it was still a testament to how far Lloyd had come since he was a teenager himself.

Before they knew it, they were walking into the small field of ancient pillars and crumbling stone of the entrance to the Triet Ruins. But to their surprise, someone else had arrived before them. Kratos quickly ushered them behind some fallen columns so they didn't attract attention. A group of four men dressed in desert gear with scarves wrapped around their heads so that only their eyes showed were standing at the entrance, facing a man wielding a scythe. Just looking at what he wore made everyone in the group feel like they were in Flanoir in comparison to how hot he must have felt.

The scythe-wielding man wore a pitch-black trench coat over a black leather cuirass. His hands were adorned with leather gauntlets of the same shade. Black leather leggings protected his lower body and were tucked into black traveler's boots. He had black hair that slightly hung down into his sky-blue eyes. His hair was a tangled mess and looked like it hadn't seen a comb in months. He stood a good foot over the tallest man in the group of four in front of him. His scythe was as tall as him and was made out of pure steel, well polished and well-kept. The blade curved back slightly before doing a sharp u-turn into a three-foot long blade, getting no wider than a hand's width. Around his left eye, barely visible, was a thin scar that curved around the outside of his eye so that it formed a faint crescent moon.

"How can he wear that and not have died from heat stroke?" Sylpher gaped.

"Stay silent. It looks like none of them have noticed us yet. Depending on what happens, we may need to step in to help that man with the scythe," Kratos hissed.

"Why would we need to help him?" Colette asked.

"Those men are dressed like most of the criminals around here are dressed. Plus, the fact that there are researchers here from Sybak would mean that there are a lot of materials to sell on the black market, making it a prime target for theft. That man is perhaps a mercenary hired to protect them," Presea explained, "A sentry is usually posted at the entrances to make sure that no one can get in without either a pass or a connection to one of the researchers on the site. Those without either of those are turned away, though bandits will try to force their way through." Presea tilted her head in thought, blinking at the single mercenary standing guard. "But usually there are two or three sentries. I'm not sure why he's the only one," she added.

"Look, buddy, either you let us through, or you're going to regret it!" one of the bandits shouted, silencing the group.

"Yeah, we figured we'd be kind enough to offer you the chance to get out of this with your life. Ain't that generous of us?" a second growled, brandishing his dagger.

The mercenary just smiled and shook his head, closing his eyes in amusement. "That would be nice of you, if I was in any danger to begin with," he chuckled.

The third bandit threw back his head and laughed. "That is too funny! You think you can win this fight? In case you're bad at math, there's four of us and only one of you."

The mercenary just shifted his weight so his scythe supported him. "Exactly! You're clearly outmatched. Now, here's my friendly offer. If you walk away right now and never show your faces here again, then I won't be forced to 'exterminate you with extreme prejudice', as my contract says. For your sakes, I would just let it be," The mercenary told them calmly, not a hint of worry on his face.

"That's it! Screw the plan, let's just kill the bastard!" One of the bandits shouted and charged, his dagger glinting in the sunlight. The rest soon followed, rage filling their eyes.

The mercenary sighed before bringing the blunt end of his scythe's handle screaming into the side of the first bandit. Without missing a beat, he brought the blade into his chest, plunging it straight into the bandit's heart. The bandit choked as his eyes widened in pain and fear. The mercenary then swung the scythe around-the dying bandit still lodged on the blade-and flung the man away, knocking over the three that were still running at him. "Verdict!" he called before rushing at the recovering bandits.

One of them had gotten up and saw the mercenary coming. He lunged at his foe, only for his dagger to hit empty air as the mercenary clad in black jumped over the bandit. An instant later, the blade of the scythe erupted from his chest as the mercenary did a front flip to attack him from above. The bandit's feet left the ground as the mercenary continued spinning. As he landed, the mercenary planted his feet and brought his weapon, still laden with the second bandit, crashing into the ground, plunging the lethal weapon even further into his victim's body. "Hung Jury!" he cried as he ripped his weapon back, easily tearing through the doomed bandit's body.

The last two bandits gaped in awe at the ferocity of their opponent. They looked at each other before nodding, determination shining in their eyes as they faced their opponent and charged from opposite sides, shouting their defiance.

The mercenary looked at them both before sidestepping one and blocking the dagger of the other. He quickly jumped back and swung his scythe, out of reach of the bandit's dagger. Flames suddenly erupted from the scythe, searing through flesh and bone and solidifying blood as the deadly weapon cleaved the man in two from his right shoulder to his left hip, cauterizing it all so it was far less bloody than it should have been. "Burning Scythe!" he said calmly.

The last bandit was shaking in horror. He stared at the bloody scene, eyes wide and his body trembling uncontrollably. "Your turn," the mercenary growled. The bandit screamed and charged wildly, fear clogging his mind. The mercenary didn't react, waiting for the bandit to get closer. As soon as he was in range, the mercenary brought his scythe up, quick as lightning, and knocked the dagger from the terrified bandit's hands. Just as quickly, the Scythe was brought down, carving a vertical line into the man's front. The flashing of the sun from the scythe's blade put an after image in everyone's eyes that was shaped like a crescent moon. "Crescent Scythe!" he said. The final bandit fell, blood flowing freely into the sand.

The mercenary sighed as he pulled a white cloth from a hidden pocket on the inside of his trench coat. "What a waste of life," he mourned softly as he carefully cleaned the weapon of the blood on it. After this task was done, he returned the bloodied cloth to its pocket and flicked his shoulder, causing the handle of the scythe to separate into thirds, connected by joints in the metal. With a flick of his wrist, the scythe then folded itself into a stack of three rods. Thomas blinked rapidly, and rubbed his eyes. The man had let go of his scythe immediately after flicking his wrist, then caught it as soon as the weapon snapped into its current position, but it had happened so fast, he wasn't sure if it happened at all. Another flick and the blade swung on a hinge that was barely visible so that it rested next to the rods.

He then put the scythe that had neatly folded into an easily carried bundle of steel into a specially constructed sling on his back that none of them had noticed before the fight. Then he calmly walked back to his post.

"Well, I guess that explains why he's the only one up here," Lloyd said.

The mercenary looked towards them and called out, "I know you are back there. Come on out, I'm not going to hurt you."

The group slowly walked out from behind the fallen columns, walking towards the mercenary while keeping an eye on his every move. The mercenary's eyes widened in shock when he saw the faces of the ones he had addressed. "Holy Martel, it's the Heroes of Regeneration!" he gasped. Then he noticed that Kratos openly had his hand on his sword. "Oh please, I don't think so highly of myself that I would make the stupid mistake of fighting you people," he scolded.

"But you just killed four bandits like they were wooden dummies," Thomas said.

The mercenary shrugged. "They were ill-trained - probably never actually had to use those daggers before - and they didn't know how to properly fight as a group. That, and they were stupid enough to believe that they could beat a highly trained mercenary," he said.

"That's a pretty cool scythe, you've got," Sylpher said, eying the bit of metal that was visible over the seven-foot tall man's shoulder.

The mercenary smiled brightly, pulling out the folded weapon and stroking it fondly. "Yep, it sure is. It's an old family heirloom, or so I've been told. It's called the Clockwork Scythe. You see, it was apparently constructed by a blacksmith who also dabbled in clock making," he said proudly. Then he bonked himself in the head, "I'm sorry, I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name is Robert Caston. I'm a mercenary that was hired to protect the researchers here." He put away his scythe and smiled at them all. "And I'm familiar with most of your names. You're Lloyd Irving-Aurion, and you're his wife, Colette, the Chosen of Regeneration. You are Mrs. Presea Sage, that silver haired guy's wife." He said, pointing to each of the ones named in turn. Then he looked towards the teens and scratched his head. "I'm assuming you three are their kids, but I'm not sure if I know your names," he told them.

"I'm Thomas Aurion. Nice to meet you."

"Sylpher Sage is my name."

"I'm Sylvia Sage. It's nice to meet you,"

Robert nodded. "Great, it's an honor to meet all of you."

Noishe padded up next to Lloyd and plopped down onto the sand, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. Lloyd smiled and reached down to pet the arshis. "This big guy right here is Noishe," Lloyd introduced the protozoan.

"Alright," Robert nodded. He then turned to Kratos, who had yet to be introduced. "And your name, sir?"

Kratos blinked once before answering. "I am Kratos."

"Alright then," Robert answered. He turned away from the purple-clad angel before doing a double take. He put his hand to his chin and seemed to be examining Kratos.

Kratos met the mercenary's analytic gaze with his signature death-glare. "Is there something you wanted, Mr. Caston?" he growled.

Robert shook his head. "It's nothing. Not important. Now, I'm sure you guys want to go in and see the Sage siblings and I'm just keeping you out here." Robert stood to the side of the entrance and pointed in. "The room is at the deepest point in and hidden in a small alcove below the altar. I'd show you, but my shift isn't over."

"Oh, we got some new arrivals, Caston?" a man wearing a desert cloak of his own said, coming out of the entrance. He was being shadowed by a second man in the same dress. The first man then eyed Robert critically. "How the hell have you managed to avoid heat stroke in that outfit, Caston? Anybody else would have died at least three times by now," he said.

Robert chuckled. "Hey Jim. I guess you guys showing up means my shift is over." The man nodded in confirmation. Robert turned back to face the group. "Well, I guess my shift is over. C'mon, I'll show you guys the way."

Robert walked in, not even bothering to check to see if the others would follow. They hurried after him and quickly caught up.

"Wow, it's actually cooler in here than it is out there," Thomas said as he pulled off his desert cloak, happy to be out of the arid desert sun.

"Yeah, it's a little nicer in this area. But it'll get a lot worse once we reach the inner rooms. Hot magma doesn't exactly make a place feel like Flanoir," Robert said as he led them deeper in.

"Which reminds me, why the heck are you dressed up like that? All that black is making me sweat even more just by looking at you," Sylpher asked, eyeing the black-clad mercenary's choice in clothing.

Robert turned his head to look at the fourth-elf. "Why does everyone keep asking me that question?" Robert wondered aloud.

"Well, it's about one hundred ten degrees Fahrenheit and everyone is doing everything they can to avoid dying of heat stroke and then there you are in your black trench coat wearing black leather armor. You seem to be begging the sun to fry you alive," Lloyd told him.

Robert considered this for a moment. "Hmm, now that I think about it, that would seem a little odd to most people," he said.

"If I'm not mistaken, the armor he is wearing has enchantments on it that protect him from heat. It would also seem there is protection from cold mixed in there as well," Kratos said.

Robert blinked and turned his attention to the Seraph. "Yeah, actually. That's it."

By now, they had reached the inner part of the ruins and were standing right in front of the warp pad that led to where Efreet was once imprisoned. "It's not too much farther, come on!" Robert called as he stepped onto the warp pad and vanished, the others following suit.

"You two are Professor Sage's niece and nephew, right?" Robert asked, pointing at Sylpher and Sylvia.

"Yes, we are. Why do you ask?" Sylvia answered.

Robert suppressed a shiver. "That woman scares me," he said, keeping his gaze fixed ahead of them, eyes wide.

"Let me guess; she's been going bonkers over the ruins, hasn't she?" Sylpher asked.

Robert nodded without looking back. "She showed up about six days ago, and no one will voluntarily approach her, except her brother and a select few researchers. I pity you two."

"She's not so bad when she's not in Ruin Mode," Sylvia said.

"She's worse when you really make her angry, though," Sylpher added.

The group was led into the room where Ignus's core once rested. Robert led them up the stairway that led to a small platform suspended above the route to Ignus's altar. Robert began to feel the wall at the edge, muttering to himself.

"It was right around here…" he pushed down on a brick and it sank into the wall. "Found it!" he declared, stepping back. The wall shook before it separated in the middle, revealing a large room with archaic lettering covering the walls. Among the runes were pictures, depicting a monstrous dragon destroying cities and consuming thousands of people. On the far wall, there was a massive drawing, depicting the same beast roaring, its front paws reared up as its snake-like neck craned back. Its teeth were menacing and flames shot out of its glowing throat. Massive wings stretched out, covering the entire wall, and they weren't even fully extended. The group gasped in awe at the incredible detail of the carving. Looking closely, the veins in the membrane that made up the wings were visible. Around the edges of this wall was a solid line of large, rune lettering that was glowing a fierce orange.

Researchers were everywhere, jotting down notes and examining everything. A familiar orange overcoat could be seen rushing everywhere, silver hair flashing as Raine Sage dashed from one carving to another. Her eyes glittered with an otherworldly light as she took notes and made theories at twice the speed of those around her. Most of the other scientists seemed to avoid her if possible.

"I'll leave you guys to it. I'd rather not talk to that woman," Robert said, waving as he walked towards a small camp in the center. Various men and woman with a wide assortment of weapons and armor could be seen talking amongst themselves.

"You're willing to fight four armed bandits alone, but you're afraid to talk to a single woman?" Sylvia asked, shocked.

"Staring death in the eye and spitting in his face has been a major part of my life. Dealing with a ruin-crazed half-elf going crazy at everything around her and nearly mauling most people that interrupt her _with_ a good reason is not something I care to make a pastime of," Robert responded before jogging off to join his fellow mercenaries.

"Oh, come on, she can't be that bad," Thomas shouted after the man.

"Actually, when there this much ancient history to be uncovered, she can be," a familiar voice answered. Everyone turned to see a silver haired half-elf looking at them through aqua-blue eyes. He stood half-a-head shorter than Lloyd and wore an aqua-blue-and-white short-sleeve tunic and light blue khaki shorts. Boots that were once white but had been painted gray by dust and soot adorned his feet. A kendama was clipped at his side, covered slightly by the lab coat that he had on. Genis Sage smiled warmly at his friends and family, elated by the pleasant surprise.

"Dad!" the twins shouted before nearly bowling the man over in their excitement to see their father again.

"What are you guys doing here? I thought you were supposed to head back to Ozette tomorrow," he laughed, hugging his children back. Presea walked up to her husband gave him a kiss, which he happily returned.

"Genis! It's good to see you!" Lloyd chirped, happy to have found his old friend so easily.

"Have you discovered anything interesting about this room?" Colette asked, just as glad at the sight of the younger Sage sibling as her husband.

The Sages broke off from their family reunion to give Genis room to answer. Genis sighed as he put his hands on his hips and gazed sadly at the ancient language that was written all over the room. "Well, unfortunately, we haven't managed to decipher any of the strange lettering that you see all over the place. From the pictures, we gather that this room tells the story of some kind of massive dragon. We think that it may have been some kind of demon, seeing as some of the carvings show the dragon roaring while flames gush from the ground and it's obvious that it regularly attacked settlements.

"Also," Genis pointed to the glowing runes that bordered the far wall, "Those runes appear to have some kind of magical properties. We don't know what they're for and we haven't messed with them much since it's possible that they could be sealing something. But what interests us most is the crystal that they are made from. It seems to be a form of fire mana, condensed so heavily that it has crystallized. They're similar to exspheres, but their properties are extremely different. Also, something besides mana was used in their composition, though we still have no clue as to what that was." Then Genis turned back to them and folded his arms. "Now, you guys still haven't answered my question. What are you guys doing here?" he persisted.

"It would be best to explain once we have managed to peel your sister away from these ruins long enough to explain everything," Kratos told him, watching the knowledgeable teacher of Iselia as she darted to and fro, shouting about how wondrous the ruins were. "Though in her current state, I think that will take some time."

Genis, who hadn't seen Kratos, jumped at his voice and whirled to face the angel. The scholar was dumbfounded, a very rare occasion to be sure. "…_Kratos?_ What the heck is going on here? When did _you_ get back? And more importantly, how?" he demanded once he had found his voice.

Kratos sighed. He knew he should expect such reactions, but that didn't make it any more tiresome. "As I said, it would be best to explain once Ms. Sage has calmed down," he repeated.

"Well, that might be a problem. It's not going to be easy to tear her away from these ruins. I don't think I've ever seen her Ruin Mode get this bad before…" Genis said to himself. He turned away from the group and started to think.

"Why don't we just tell her we need to talk to her?" Colette suggested.

"Colette, you've seen how she's like when she's in Ruin Mode. Remember that one time in Balacruf Mausoleum when she was examining the plaques with the riddles and a gargoyle attacked her? She whapped it on the head with her staff then roundhouse kicked it to the face so hard it just burst into dust! And the whole time she was still examining the plaques!" Lloyd reminded her.

"…Actually, Mrs. Aurion, that might not be such a bad idea!" Sylpher said. Everyone turned to stare at the male twin, causing him to wish he hadn't spoken while silently telling him to explain his reasoning. Sylpher sighed before diving into it. "You know how every time someone that knew Kratos before he left on that comet sees him, they look like their brains just shut down?" He began.

Genis smiled brightly as he picked up his son's train of thought. "Of course! If Kratos goes up and talks to her, that should get her mind off of these ruins and focused on him instead!" he finished.

"Exactly!" Sylpher shouted.

Slowly, every head turned to Kratos expectantly.

Kratos stood stock still and gave his terrifying death-glare to them all. There was no way he would approach that woman while she was in that state. He'd tried to snap her out of this thing before, and that was more than enough for _two_ of his lifetimes. He absolutely would not do it!

* * *

Kratos couldn't believe that they had actually convinced him to do it. Cautiously, reluctantly, Kratos walked towards the half-elf in the orange overcoat. He was sub-consciously aware of the entire group of mercenaries watching him, but whether it was in anticipation or in shock, he couldn't tell.

He came up beside her far more noisily than he normally would. It was not a good idea to surprise her, the gargoyle incident being only one of many examples. He cleared his throat and tentatively called out, "Ms. Sage?"

Raine just kept studying the characters in front of her, drawing out sketches in an open notebook on her lap.

Kratos shifted, uncertain as to if she heard him. He resisted the urge to look back to where the others stood waiting and instead spoke a little louder this time. "Ms. Sage."

Still no reaction.

Kratos sighed and offered one last prayer to whatever god was watching over him at that moment before reaching down and grabbing her shoulder. "Ms. Sage, I need to-"

The back of Raine's hand moved almost too fast to see and drove straight into Kratos's nose. Kratos winced as a crack resounded and he felt warm liquid flow from it. Raine's foot quickly followed, aimed for Kratos's gut, but this time Kratos was ready. He caught her leg just before it made contact.

Surprised, Raine turned to glare at the one who had interrupted her, since she finally realized that someone was there, but froze in shock at the sight of one Kratos Aurion nursing a broken nose and preventing her foot from launching him across the room. "…Kratos?" she asked dumbly as Kratos let go of her foot in favor of preventing his nose from gushing blood all over everything.

Dim cheering erupted from the camp of mercenaries as the others came up. Raine immediately began tending to Kratos's broken nose. "I apologize for that, but you shouldn't sneak up on people," Raine lectured.

"You're kidding, right? This guy was stomping so loudly I bet Jim and Eric could hear on sentry duty!" Robert said as he jogged up, a look of wonder lighting up his face. He walked over and clapped Kratos on the back just as Raine finished healing him, a big grin on his face. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen, sir. I'd be willing to help you out in a fight anytime, though if you're able to approach that woman and walk away with little more than a broken nose, I doubt you'd need my help," he told Kratos, a profound sense of respect coloring his words. Robert pulled out a clean cloth and handed it to Kratos so he could wipe the blood off of his face.

"I'm actually surprised that you managed to catch her foot! Someone tried to get her attention the first day she was here: he didn't stand a chance! And he was probably the best fighter out of all of us!" Robert continued.

Raine turned and eyed Robert, the tell-tale gleam sparkling in her eye as she focused on his scythe folded up on his back. Robert took a big step back, putting his hand over it protectively. "For the last time, Ms. Sage, I won't let you examine my scythe," he growled.

Raine saddened slightly before returning her focus to Kratos. "May I ask as to just how you have managed to return?" she asked, giving her full attention to Kratos.

"That's actually what we wanted to talk about. You see, we were thinking about how to get your attention and we hoped that you would be so surprised when you saw him that you would snap out of Ruin Mode. Luckily for us, you reacted just like everyone else so far," Lloyd explained.

Robert blinked and looked between them all. "Okay, I'm lost," he said. Then he shook his head and made a throwing motion as he turned around to walk away. "Never mind, it's none of my business. By the way, Kratos," Robert turned to look at the purple-clad angel, "that stunt you just pulled kind of made you a hero amongst the others. Be expecting a lot of strangers to want to hang out with you. I'm not the only one scared of her." With that he turned and left, leaving the group to explain everything that had happened over the past few days.

* * *

A few hours later, the constant shuffling of lab coats and scratching of pencils faded as the researchers all put away their equipment and retreated to the camp that had been set up in the center of the massive hall. Like Robert had warned, a lot of the mercenaries and even some of the scholars declared their admiration for Kratos's incredible feat. Eventually, Kratos got so sick of it that he gave a withering glare to anyone who so much as mentioned him and Raine in the same sentence.

Soon after, dinner was being prepared. Due to the heat of the magma in the chambers nearby and the hidden streams of the molten rock that coursed around the ruins themselves, no fires had been lit. Those who had cooking duty were just outside the hall, preparing the food over the magma pools.

A space had been cleared for sparring matches. An assortment of weighted training weapon had been set out for any combatants to choose from. However, much to the shock of many of the scholars and mercenaries, Sylpher and Thomas chose to ignore the safer models and instead sparred with real weapons, as they usually do.

Sylpher lunged with his ax only for Thomas to parry the blow. Sylpher went for a vertical strike, but Thomas sidestepped it at the last moment. Droplets of sweat sprayed from his arm as he thrust the Vorpal Sword forward, stopping the blade from impaling his friend just as it reached his stomach. Sylpher sagged down in defeat, too out of breath to say anything. Thunderous applause filled the room as the mercenaries all cheered over the victor of the exciting battle.

"I gotta admit, I thought they were crazy when they pulled out their real weapons on each other, but I guess they knew what they were doing," an old man with a pole ax said.

"Indeed. It is far more difficult to fight without accidentally killing your partner than it is to go all out with the training weapons," a woman with a crossbow agreed.

Robert jumped up and handed both of the teens a full canteen of water. "That was quite impressive, you two," he told them, giving them both a solid pat on the back. Sylpher nodded his thank and took a long draught from the canteen before handing it back, Thomas imitating him. Sylpher went and sat down next to his sister and Thomas made to follow, but he was stopped by the burly man with blonde hair and a beard that Robert had been sitting next to. "Hold on a minute there, boy. What do you say to a match between you and ol' Dragonhide over there?" he asked, his accent vaguely similar to Thomas's Grandpa Dirk's.

"Who?" Thomas asked. The man gestured with his head and Thomas turned around to see Robert shaking his head at the man.

"No way, Max, you know what happens when I fight," he said.

"Oh, com' on, Dragonhide! He's just a lad! Are ya afraid that he'll clean your clock?" the man, Max chuckled. A chorus of "ooh"'s from the surrounding mercenaries rose, turning into raucous laughter at the flush of anger in Thomas's face.

"I said no, Max. And stop calling me that!" Robert shouted above the dying laughter.

"Oh, com' on! Dragon-hide! Dragon-hide!"The man started chanting. "Com' on, everyone, join in! Dragon-hide! Dragon-hide!" the chant quickly picked up and soon the room was reverberating from the volume of the mass chanting "Dragon-hide!" Soon, Robert raised his hands and the crowd quieted, waiting in anticipation for his answer.

"… All right, I'll do it!" Robert gave in. A chorus of cheers answered his acceptance. Immediately, everyone started to make a bigger circle, giving the two combatants even more room. Robert took the Clockwork Scythe out of the sling on his back and tossed it to Max, who exchanged it with a properly weighted training scythe.

Thomas's eyes widened. "Shouldn't I get a wooden weapon? He asked, "I mean, doesn't that give me a huge handicap?"

Max roared with laughter, "Ya don't need a wooden sword, boy! He's called Dragonhide because that armor he's wearing is made from a dragon's skin! Go ahead and try to chop him ta bits! You're sword will break long before tha' happens!"

Robert spun his scythe in his hands before catching it and pulling it to the side, blade-down. "I apologize in advance for anything and everything that I may say to you during this match. I'll do my best to hold myself back," he said calmly, his eyes frosting over and becoming mirrors.

Thomas's grip on his sword tightened. Now the man was looking down on him! Thomas dropped into a ready stance, anger flaring at what the mercenary had said.

"GOO!" Max shouted at the top of his lungs.

Robert launched forward, bringing his scythe down on Thomas as he brought his sword up to block. The mercenary pushed back and made another swipe at Thomas from farther away, just inside of Robert's range. Thomas ducked under the attack, narrowly avoided the wooden blade. He realized now just how difficult it was to fight a scythe-wielder.

Thomas used the momentum from his dodge to tuck himself into a roll and make a swipe at Robert's gut. But when he landed on his feet and thrust his sword forward, it met empty air. Robert had jumped over Thomas and was bringing his scythe down in the same maneuver that he performed outside against the bandits. Thomas's eyes widened before he instinctively threw himself on the ground, successfully dodging the scythe.

Thomas quickly rolled to face his opponent, who had landed and was turning around. Thomas performed a backwards somersault to create distance and allow himself to get to his feet. Thomas raised his head and locked eyes with his opponent, only for his muscles to tense up in shock. Robert saw this and tried to take advantage of it, but Thomas recovered fast enough to avoid any serious injury. Robert followed with a barrage of slashes, each one punctuated by an excited grunt.

Thomas's mind whirled as he processed what he saw. He narrowly blocked each of the attacks, his mind elsewhere as the realization of what he saw dawned on him, along with the implications. His eyes widened as he met Robert's gaze once more and confirmed that it was not his imagination.

The look in Robert Caston's eye held a spark of killing intent. It was clearly being tethered back by something, probably the rational part of Robert's mind. Thomas nearly shivered as he hopped away from his opponent, wondering what the hell he had got himself into.

"Dragonhide" Caston was a berserker!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**I realized I had left Noishe out, so I brought him back. You gotta love that arshis, he's so cool. **_

_**This chapter was brought to you by the sugar rushes of about four cups of hot chocolate a day.**_

_**Wyrd: I think you may have a small addiction.**_

_**I do too. But I don't care! Hot Chocolate is the best drink in the whole world, when prepared properly.**_

_**Wyrd: Exactly how much powder do you use? I went to get myself some and when I looked in the tub of the mix it was half empty. Didn't you get that last week?**_

… _**Maybe.**_

_**Wyrd: Okay, I'm officially putting you on a no-Hot-Chocolate diet.**_

_**You can't force me to do anything!**_

_**Wyrd: Watch me.**_

_**I shall not alloweth thee! I banisheth thee to the nether regions of mine mind!**_

_**Wyrd: …What?**_

_**I don't know, it just sounded dramatic.**_

_**Happy New Year everyone! Got any resolutions?**_

_**Wyrd: Do you have any yourself?**_

_**Yes, actually. I aim to actually keep to my new update schedule.**_


	9. Chapter 9: Withering

_**Ah, the next chapter! So much to write, so much space to write it in. I have a lot of plans for this chapter. Let's see, we left off with Thomas realizing that Robert was a berserker, so that means-**_

_**Robert: He's screwed.**_

_**What?**_

_**Robert: Thomas. He's screwed.**_

_**Why do you say that? I mean, sure, you're barely managing to keep yourself in check, but that always happens. Plus, you've got a wooden scythe, so it's not like you can kill him.**_

_**Robert: (Stares at me incredulously)**_

… _**Oh yeah, I should know that. Well… um…. uh… Anonymous Reviews!**_

_**Anonymous Reviews**_

_**0: Robert's one of my favorite OCs, to be honest. I just like people with scythes. The Clockwork Scythe didn't exist at first, but I decided to create a special scythe for him, since a normal scythe that size would be a pain to lug around everywhere. It was my solution to not enough space. And you flatter me with your praise of my fight scenes. You're not the first to say so, and I'm sure you're not the last. I'm glad you like my artes and names for things. Hopefully, I don't run out anytime soon. That would be bad.**_

_**All right! In this chapter, we delve into Robert's past, after the fight between him and Thomas, of course. I'm really not happy with how this chapter turned out, but I really needed to update and I was struggling with how to improve it. This will not be one of my best chapters, I'm warning you now.**_

_**Robert: By the way, Wyrd wanted me to ask you when the, um… "feeding"… will occur.**_

_**Tell him I'm working on it. It takes time setting these things up and I want it to be a lot better than last time. **_

_**Robert: he also said you had planned on getting to the start of it all this chapter. He wanted to know why that hasn't happened yet.**_

… _**You know what? Tell Wyrd to go (BEEEEEEEP).**_

_**Robert: O.O (blink blink)**_

_**I'm not in the mood to deal with it, so don't say anything. **_

_**Also, I've wanted to do this for awhile now, so I'll start this chapter off with it.**_

_**(strikes pose) IT IS I, MATTHEW PATEL! XD**_

_**Robert: … Really? Are you really that obsessed with Scott Pilgrim?**_

… _**Maybe. =D It's a very funny movie. Good book too. I highly suggest it to anyone and everyone.**_

_**Anyway, enough about stuff you may or may not care about. Let's move on to something I **_**know **_**you care about. The story!**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 9: Withering

There are many people that most warriors would rather die than go into battle with. Some of these people are just skilled beyond belief and have ascended into legends and folklore, while others are feared for very different reasons.

Among these warriors, one type stands out: The Berserkers.

What sets The Berserkers apart is that they lose control of themselves. They go berserk, for lack of a better word, and become controlled by their bloodlust. They lash out at anything and everything that moves, whether it is a friend or a foe. They fight with complete disregard for their own safety. In fact, they have been known to willingly impale themselves on their opponent's weapon, without hesitating for an instant, just so that they could get a fatal blow in. They are monsters of combat, born solely to taste victory, even if they doom themselves to do it.

Berserkers are a very odd breed of warrior. It is possible for a man to be a Berserker, but be a very kind and gentle man outside of combat. Upon entering combat, something within them is awakened, enhancing their combat abilities and creating a terrifying opponent.

Thomas Aurion found himself facing a Berserker on this day. What was supposed to be a friendly spar quickly became a struggle for survival for the young angel. It was obvious that Robert was trying to hold himself back, but even then he was on the borderline of mauling Thomas. Thomas briefly wondered what the man was capable of if he wasn't trying so hard to maintain control over his actions.

The mercenary brought the wooden scythe down. While a direct blow from the practice weapon wouldn't kill Thomas, the weapon was weighted so it could still break his bones. Thomas raised his sword and deflected it, only for his opponent to whip the other end of the scythe up and catch him across the chin with it.

Stars burst in front of Thomas's vision as he felt the crushing uppercut slam into his chin. He stumbled back, trying to remember which direction was up as he reeled from the blow. Robert rushed forward and drove his shoulder into Thomas's chest. A sickening series of cracking sounds filled the air as fiery pain exploded in Thomas's chest. Thomas desperately tried to gasp for breath, but with every ounce of air that passed between his lips an eternity of torment filled his body.

"Crud, Caston's gone berserk!" Max shouted, jumping from his spot and running into the fray to stop his fellow mercenary.

As soon as he got close, Robert elbowed the man in the gut and lifted him into the air with the handle of his scythe. "Don't interfere!" Robert shouted as he sent the muscular man crashing into the racks where wooden weapons sat, waiting to be used.

Robert turned back to his target, only to receive a kick to the gut. Thomas groaned in pain at the motion, but quickly stopped when the sound intensified the pain in his chest. Raine rushed over to him to tend to his wounds as Robert got back up, the restraint that was in his eyes clearly fading. He roared as he charged, swinging his scythe with enough force to snap the half-elf's neck.

Kratos was between Raine and the falling weapon in before Robert could react. Kratos deftly blocked the stroke of his opponent's blade and slammed his shield roughly against his head. Robert stumbled backwards, shaking his head to clear the lights. Kratos pursued and swiftly knocked the man unconscious before the berserker could do anything more.

Max groaned loudly from the pile of splintered wood and broken sparring equipment. He sat up, gingerly rubbing his head. "Bloody hell, Dragonhide hasn't gone tha' far in a long time," he mumbled to himself. A few people helped him to his feet and he went off to check on the now unconscious Robert.

Meanwhile, Sylpher and Sylvia had rushed up to their friend to make sure he was fine, the others right behind them. Raine was mending his broken ribs. "You're very fortunate that your bones didn't puncture your lungs. They'll be a little sore for awhile, but you'll be able to move around easily enough," she explained to her patient as he clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut to avoid crying out from the pain.

"How is he, Professor?" Lloyd asked, looking worriedly at his son.

"I'm fine, Dad," Thomas assured.

"What happened out there? You just fell apart and that guy started beating the pulp out of you," Sylpher asked.

Thomas shivered at the memory of the desire to kill him shining in the mercenary's eyes. "He seems like a nice guy, doesn't he?" Thomas asked.

"What does that have to do with you getting your butt handed to you?" Sylvia asked.

"It is called psychological warfare," Kratos interjected.

"What do you mean by that?" Colette asked.

"His demeanor outside of battle is friendly and approachable. From what we have seen, he tries to avoid violence. But, once he enters combat, he changes," Kratos explained.

Genis nodded. "That's right. You see, Robert is a Berserker, and they have a tendency to lose their self-control when they fight and go berserk, hence the name. What Robert does is use his cheerful and friendly disposition to make his opponent think that he is a pushover. Then, once his blood has gotten up in combat and he goes berserk, his opponent is frightened by the radical change in him, shattering their concentration and often breaking their will to fight through irrational fear. Though from what I've seen, he tries his best to maintain control of himself, though I'm sure that's not always possible," Genis explained further.

"Actually, tha's not entirely correct," Max said behind Genis. Everyone turned to face the muscular mercenary, a sad look on his face. "Robert Caston has never enjoyed hurtin' others. How he became a berserker, I'm not sure, but he's been one since I've known him. Before, he always worked alone, so as ta not endanger anyone around him. But, he never truly tried ta control it until abou' ten years ago. If it can shed some light on my bes' friend, I'd be happy ta tell ya folks what I know abou' him," the big man offered.

Thomas sat up, wincing as the mended ribs protested slightly. "I wouldn't mind that," he said.

"That would probably be best. Seeing as he is in the Imperial Research Academy's employ, we should know as much as we can about him in the event that he goes berserk again," Genis said.

Max smiled sadly. "I'm not sure if he would want me ta tell ya about his pas', but I can' exactly ask him now, can I?"

* * *

They were all gathered around, each holding a bowl of steaming chili. They ate carefully, watching Max while he swirled his food sadly around in his bowl. Finally he sighed and put the dish down. "I suppose I'll start with when I first met him. It was the day after th' Asgard Ranch was destroyed, twenty-two years ago.

* * *

_A young blonde-haired boy, around the age of five, followed his master as they searched through the many refugees of the destroyed Ranch. His master, an old mercenary in his late thirties, was looking for some friends of his that had been carted off to the ranch three years ago. They had spoken to dozens of prisoners, but none of them knew if the couple and their child were still alive. Suddenly, the old mercenary paused, his gazed fixated on a small boy. _

_The young boy was severely malnourished, but he looked better fed and cared for than the rest of the former prisoners. His body also seemed more toned, and there were several bandages covering a few wounds, which was incredible by itself. "It can't be," he breathed in a gravelly voice, staring at the boy in disbelief. The young Max turned to look at him closer. _

_He had eyes as blue as the sky and long, thick black hair fell from his head in an unkempt mess. A small scar traced his eye like a crescent moon. He looked fearfully around at the people, clutching a rusty dagger tightly. "Robert?" the old mercenary called out. They boy flinched and turned at the sound of his name. "Robert, I can't believe it's you!" the man said in relief, rushing up to the boy. Max jogged after his master._

"_Do you know where your parents are?" Max's master asked. The boy looked up at the old man fearfully, his hand gripping the dagger tightly in fear. "Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you. I knew your mother and father. You were only a baby at the time, but I used to visit you all the time."_

_The boy's grip on the dagger shifted and he answered in a croaky voice, scratchy and rough from disuse and lack of water. "My parents are dead. I've never met them," he said. Then he turned to Max and the two children locked eyes. Max smiled at him and he could see a ghost of a smile creep onto the other boy's face. Unconsciously, the boy let his white-knuckled grip on the old weapon slacken._

* * *

"From tha' day, we were the bes' o' friends. We sparred together, though the old man often had ta stop Caston from mauling me, we ate together, heck, we even slept in the same bed till we were twelve. When he turned fifteen, our master gave him th' Clockwork Scythe, tellin' 'im it was an old family heirloom. Actually, Robert had shown great skill with scythes, and had been usin' 'em since he was about nine," Max finished, smiling faintly.

"And even then, Robert still had a tendency to go berserk?" Sylpher asked.

Max snorted. "You kiddin'? Dragonhide used to go berserk fer every scuffle he got into. Nobody wanted ta mess with 'im, cause if they did, then they'd be th' ones ta get messed up."

Kratos lifted his head and spoke, "You said that he was one of the prisoners that was held in the Asgard Human Ranch?"

Max nodded solemnly.

"And I can describe the hell it was for you, if you don't believe it," Robert said, walking up behind Max. Everyone tensed as the berserker looked at his bowl of chili sadly, refusing to look any of them in the eye. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked slowly.

They made a gap and Robert sat down next to Max, still refusing to look up. Max looked at him nervously. "Dragonhide, I was-"

"I know," he cut the man off, "It's okay. I should probably be the one to tell them about it all, anyway. They are no doubt curious as to why I'm a berserker, and they have a right to know why. Besides, nearly killing their son is a poor way to repay them for freeing me from that Ranch, and the basics of what happened to me in there is far less than what they deserve from me." He glumly stirred his food, preparing himself to relive his life in the Human Ranch.

Colette shook her head, "No, it's okay. You don't have to tell us about what it was like in there. We've talked to a lot of people that have been in those places, and we've seen the Ranches for ourselves. We know what it's like," she told him.

"It's fine," Robert said, a sad smile stretching across his face. "I don't mind telling people about it. After all, I was treated a lot better than most of the prisoners."

"They put me, a child who could barely walk, up against monsters, laughing as I often was severely injured and stepping in only when I might die. They didn't stop at that. They whipped me, and beat me, until I only knew two things in the world: pain and hatred. I hated them all, every last one of them. So one day, when I was fighting the monsters, I pictured that it was them I was fighting, that it was them I was supposed to kill. I tore the beast they had chosen as an opponent apart with my bare hands.

"After that, they gave me a weapon, and I tried to make my escape with it. While I could kill a monster, I was nowhere near strong enough to fight off the Desians. They punished me severely, and left me on the edge of death. That day, I learned to save my rage only for the fights against monsters.

"The only reason they were training me like that was so they could hopefully train up a bunch of humans like me and use us as their guards, saving the soldiers for 'important' things. I focused my hatred into the fights, slowly letting it consume me so fast that it became second nature, and eventually, a part of who I was. Then, one day, all of the Desians were gone, and people were rushing me out of the building. That was the day I met Max," he finished, head still bowed.

Everyone was deathly silent. "How old were you when all of this happened?" Colette asked, concern lacing her voice.

"The events I just described, other than the day of my escape, took place when I was three," Robert answered stiffly.

Everyone was stunned at this side of the cruelty of the Desians that they had never known existed. When no one spoke again, Robert raised his head and look directly at Thomas. "I would like to say that I am truly and deeply sorry for what I did to you. I should have never accepted Max's proposal," he told the teen.

Max looked at Robert before shaking his head stiffly, "Ya shouldn' be apologizin', Rob. I was th' one tha' got everyone ta chant yer name and pressgang ya into th' fight! If anyone's at fault, it's me," he told his friend.

Robert shook his head. "No, you're wrong, Max. Ultimately, it was my choice, and I can't just use peer pressure as an excuse for my actions. I appreciate that you're trying to make me feel better, but just let it lie," he told the big man.

Thomas cleared his throat to get the man's attention. "I'm not going to hold it against you or anything, but next time you're about to fight someone and you don't want to kill them, warn them," Thomas advised.

Robert smiled and nodded his head. "I'll be sure to do that."

"I know this is an abrupt change of subject, but I've been meaning to ask this for a while now," Raine interjected, "How did you manage to kill a dragon in a way that allowed you to use its skin? Normally, by the time a dragon is dead it has sustained so many injuries that its skin is useless as armor. But your armor is made out of a dragon's hide, as your nickname suggests."

Robert's mood immediately changed for the better. He looked up, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "I got swallowed whole and cut my way out of the stomach," he proclaimed boldly, his tone completely serious. "I've got the dragon's head at home in Asgard to prove it, along with its stomach." He looked at everyone's looks of utter disbelief and laughed. "Everyone always looks like that every time I tell them. I'm being totally serious here. I can tell you, it was not one of the highlights of my life," he chuckled, eating as he calmed down.

"Why did you keep the stomach?" Lloyd asked.

Robert shrugged. "A souvenir of the fun time I spent in it? I don't know. Just kinda took it along with me," Robert explained without explaining.

"Also just ta give me an' Sam, th' man who trained us, a mighty good scare. When I saw Dragonhide carryin' a big ol' bundle o' dragon skin under one arm an' th' head an' stomach in th' other, I couldn' believe my eyes," Max added.

"How long ago did this happen, anyway?" Genis asked.

Max thought about that for a moment. "Well, th' week after tha', ya got the Clockwork Scythe, right?" He asked Robert.

Robert nodded, "Yeah, that's right. So I was about fifteen then, which means it happened twelve years ago?"

"Sounds abou' right."

Everyone stared at the man, utter disbelief painting their faces. "Do you really expect us to believe that you were able to kill a dragon alone when you were only fifteen years old?" Kratos asked.

"I never said I came away from the fight unscathed. I almost died, as a matter of fact. Took me a week to recover from the burns I got from the stomach acid and I was wishing I was dead several times over by the end of the month that I was recovering in the nearby village's equivalent of a hospital. So basically, I was lying in a bed in a stranger's house wishing death would hurry up and come already and end my torment while people took care of me and made sure I didn't commit suicide," Robert explained light-heartedly. He was very nonchalant about his near-death experience.

"He wouldn' stop complainin' about how terrible it was when he got back, either," Max laughed.

The light-hearted conversation continued for the rest of the meal. It was incredible how different Robert was from when he was fighting. It was hard to believe that underneath that man with the lively blue eyes was someone who fought just for the sake of spilling blood.

Time passed as the camp shut down for the night. Researchers finished scribbling their last notes and put their journals away as some of the bodyguards switched sentry duty and others cleaned up from the meal.

The group split up, leaving each to their own devices. Raine was off on her own, still pouring over her notes. Sylpher and Sylvia were on the other side of the group of tents that had been marked as theirs, talking with their father. Lloyd as making sure Noishe was comfortable and Colette and Presea were discussing their own thoughts about the demon dragon depicted in the room. Kratos was standing alone by the fire and Thomas was locked in a game of chess with Max.

Robert approached Kratos and calmly stood next to him. "You're one of the Heroes of Regeneration, aren't you?" he asked curiously.

"And what makes you think that?" Kratos countered. It seemed that Robert had wanted to confront him about this for awhile.

"I remember seeing your face as I was taken from the ranch," Robert explained, "I asked around about you and I found out that you were a mercenary hired to protect the Chosen. Then I saw you once more in Asgard about a month after that with the Chosen."

Kratos turned towards the black-clad mercenary. "You speak as if I affirmed your question. I never gave you an answer," Kratos told him.

Robert smirked, "True, you didn't say that you were, but you didn't deny it either."

Kratos huffed. "Fair enough. But if you must know, I went separate ways from the group when Lloyd, Colette, Raine, and Genis went to Tethe'alla for the first time and I never rejoined them, though we did cross paths occasionally. So I cannot be considered a Hero of Regeneration."

"What made you leave them?" Robert asked, curious.

"…" Kratos responded with silence.

"Won't say, huh?" Robert observed. "I can understand if you don't want to explain. After all, it's your choice to tell me." Robert looked over at Thomas and Max, seeing how they were doing. At a glance, it looked like Thomas was winning, but an experienced player could see that Max had the upper hand. "You know, when I saw the Chosen and the rest, I remember thinking 'These are the people that saved me from the ranch.' Then I saw you, standing off on your own, and I remembered your face from the ranch. I thought that if I became a mercenary, I could travel all over the world and do all kinds of good things." Robert smiled as Max moved his final piece into position and put Thomas in a checkmate. He shook his head at the memories. "I was so naïve back then," he said, more to himself than to Kratos.

"Why do you say that?" Kratos asked.

Robert stifled a laugh. "Isn't it obvious?" he answered. "I'm a berserker. When I go into combat, I place everyone around me in danger. In the end, I do more harm than good." Robert's face fell, a faraway look entering his eyes. "By trying to protect something, I destroy that which I wanted to keep safe."

"Who was it that you killed?" Kratos asked.

Robert's head snapped up. "What?"

"Who did you kill that made you abandon what you first set out to do?"

"… I don't think that is any concern of yours," Robert said coldly. "Mr. Aurion."

Kratos was slightly surprised by the use of his last name. He had never told it to the mercenary. Before Kratos could ask, Robert spoke, "I said I asked around about you a long time ago. It's not a shock that I knew your last name. It was when you introduced yourself as Kratos that I recognized you."

Robert turned and began to walk away. "I won't pry any further into your past, Mr. Aurion, as long as you don't pry into mine. I'm sure we both have secrets that we want to keep, and I'm sure we both know to respect that."

Kratos was left alone to ponder the man's sudden change in demeanor. It was clear that Robert had killed someone while he was berserk. Kratos sighed as he shook his head, trying to think of something else. Robert was right; Kratos knew what it was like to bear the burden of killing someone he cared about.

* * *

Thomas had challenged Max to a rematch after his loss, much to the excitement of the big man. Max loved playing chess, and Robert had stopped playing with him a long time ago, complaining about never being able to win.

Thomas looked carefully at his pieces, considering his options. Max was a very tough opponent, and strategizing had never been Thomas's strong point. Silently, he picked up his rook and moved it.

"That wouldn't be a prudent move," a deep, slightly muffled voice said next to Thomas.

Thomas turned and was met with a single violet eye. He shouted in surprise and fell back. The bandaged man from Avalon continued to look at Thomas, his unblinking gaze pinning the young angel in place.

Thomas's shout had drawn everyone's attention. Weapons were drawn as they realized who it was, Thomas finding his feet and backing away from the unborn man. Max and Robert followed suit. They had no clue who he was, but they trusted the group's judgement.

The man ignored them and stood. In his hand, he carried a dead, shriveled-up black rose, the dead petals still clinging to the stem, as if it had died rapidly. He lifted the rose up and examined it, twirling it gently between his fingers.

"How did you get in here? What happened to the sentries?" Robert asked.

The man ignored Robert's question and continued to examine the dead flower. "Do you know what is special about this flower?" he asked.

"It's black and it's dead," Lloyd guessed.

"Precisely," the man nodded. "Black roses are very difficult to come by. They do not appear naturally and must be cultivated through a series of cross-pollinations with various types of other roses. As a result, they are rather expensive. But do you know the significance of them?"

"I can' help but wonder why ya came here if yer just gonna give us a lecture 'bout roses," Max sighed. "An' I don' recall ya tellin' us yer name."

The violet eye shifted to gaze at the speaker. "If my name is all you desire, then I can oblige. I am called Nazo, Thirteenth Lord of the Unborn. There, I have answered your question, now it is only fair that you answer mine."

"Black roses are used as a symbol for death. Some criminal organizations send them to people as a message of death," Raine answered.

Nazo smiled. "Correct. A single black rose is sent as a message of death. But this rose is dead, as you can see. It did not die naturally."

He lifted the rose into the air. "The stem has withered, losing the green hue of life and exchanging it for the ugly brown of death. The petals are dry and fragile, and yet retain the hue and vibrancy of life. This rose… is a message."

Everyone shifted at that knowledge, but the question was, what was the message? And who was it for?

"It is a message from our master."Nazo continued. "He has issued a mandate. Fire is to rise from its slumber, and the desert's voice is to be silenced." Nazo allowed the rose to slip from his fingers tips. The dead flower fell slowly, crumbling to dust as it hit the floor.

Suddenly, the sound of scraping metal broke the silence in the air. A blade as wide as Nazo's hand had slid out of his wrist. It was a foot long and a withered black rose was engraved upon it. "The withered black rose is the symbol of the Unborn, for we serve Death itself," He announced, bringing the weapon to cover half of his face. His eye stared at them all, looking rather sinister with the ebony blade floating beneath it.

The entire camp was alerted to his presence with the drawing of the blade, and soon, more weapons being drawn filled the air as the bodyguards followed the example of the heroes. Nazo flicked his gaze to those surrounding him. "I'm not quite done with what I have to say here. I hope you sell-swords are not feeling too bellicose this evening," he shouted. Similar blades emerged from Nazo's left wrist and the soles of both his feet. "We can fight once I'm done with what I came to do," Nazo said.

"And what exactly is that?" Lloyd demanded.

Nazo shifted to gaze intently at Lloyd. A strained silence filled the room as their eyes met. Lloyd shifted uncomfortably as the unrelenting stare pierced his mind. He found that he could no longer move and he had the disturbing feeling that he was no longer the only one looking at his thoughts. He pushed back at the presence that invaded his mind, fighting to keep whatever it was out.

Nazo looked away and the presence that fought against Lloyd faded. "I have come for my own reasons. I have no reason to tell you, and you do not need to know."

Suddenly, one of the other mercenaries grew impatient. "Why are we just standing here and listening to what this freak has to say? If he's an enemy, then let's attack!" the man charged Nazo on his left, so he could blindside the Lord. Nazo blocked his strike without turning.

The man gasped in shock, along with everyone else. Nazo slowly turned to look the man directly in the eye. The man froze as they their gazes locked.

"You are so pathetic," Nazo whispered loud enough to be heard if one strained their ears. "You fought for your whole life to protect the woman you cared for. You fought and became strong, just for her. But despite all your strength, you couldn't protect her." The man's eyes widened in surprise at Nazo's words. "She died slowly and painfully as you watched her wither beneath the fever, helpless. So to escape that feeling, you left her, unable to be with her as she succumbed." His sword fell to his side as he visibly sagged. He looked much older than before as his body shook like a frail old man's. Never once did their eye contact break. "You're nothing more than a spineless worm that can't face his failures in life."

Nazo brought his left arm-blade up and held it before the man. "I can offer you penance for your sin. You can experience what it was like to slowly wither and die." The decorated weapon flashed through the air, leaving a small cut on the man's face. "You have two days to live," Nazo breathed into his ear before the blade on his right wrist retreated back into his arm. Nazo punched the man, breaking his jaw and sending him flying back to the crowd. Nazo made the arm-blade reappear before turning to look back at the group that he had originally come for.

"He talked as if he knew just what to say to kill the man inside," Colette gasped.

"What the hell is he?" Lloyd asked, bewildered.

"They say the eye is the gateway to a man's soul," Nazo said, examining his arm-blade. "I have been granted the power to search that soul." Nazo's eye flicked to his opponents. "Perhaps it is time for me to take my mask off…" Nazo closed his eye and reopened it.

Instead of the violet eye Nazo appraised them with before, and angry red gazed out at them. His gaze had turned from uninterested to positively venomous as the pupil narrowed so that it was like a serpent's. Everyone immediately felt something other than themselves in their minds. They could feel another presence sifting through their memories, searching for moments in their lives that could be used against them. Pain shot through the minds of all as they fell to their knees, clutching their heads and struggling to escape the creature that lurked in their thoughts.

"_Do not be afraid,"_ a monstrous, ethereal voice echoed throughout the room as they struggled to force the presence to leave their minds. Its words were soft, and it spoke in a seductive whisper as it rumbled sickeningly in their thoughts. "_I come to help, not to destroy. The peace I offer is eternal. It is rest, it is absolute. Whether it is today or the next, it will come."_ Nazo slowly walked towards the kneeling form of Robert. His venomous glare regarded the man with shock and interest.

"_Now, let me see your hopes…"_ Images flashed as they saw everything that gave them hope. Everything that put a smile on their faces danced before their sight. Despite the happiness the images brought, immense pain accompanied them as the presence carelessly tore through their minds.

"_Let me see your desires…"_ Everything that any of them had ever wanted flashed before their eyes. Some cried out in pain as the presence forced them to recall these things, ravaging their minds and tearing holes in the landscapes of their psyches.

"_Let me see your fears…"_ Again they were forced to see things. Everything they feared flashed before their eyes, filling them with panic as they desperately fought against the assault upon the only thing that was truly theirs: their minds.

"_Let me see your failures…"_ Many stopped struggling as the greatest wrongs they had ever committed were brought to the forefronts of their minds. Guilt, sadness, and pain accompanied the memories. Tears flowed freely as many wept from the mental wounds that the presence was inflicting upon them.

Nazo reached Robert as the kneeling man looked dejectedly up at him. Tears shone in his eyes, silently begging to be released from the torment of having his mind violated.

"_You bear the burdens of many sins. I can offer you penance."_ Nazo smiled gently at Robert. _"I can give you the peace you once had." _Robert looked at the man questioningly. It was clear by now that the voice that spoke within their minds originated from Nazo. _"I can take away the pain!"_

Robert laughed weakly. "Liar," he choked.

The smile on Nazo's face faded. _"Then wither beneath the power of Latem Evitagen, the Cursed Steel."_ Nazo raised his arm-blades and one of his feet, so that he balanced neatly upon a single leg with his other leg lifted so it was parallel to the ground and his arms were above his head. _"SOUL RAVAGE!" _Nazo's unnatural voice roared.

"NO!" Max shouted as he shoved Robert out of the way. Nazo plunged his arm-blades into the man's exposed flesh and brought thick red lines across his chest. The foot-blade swept across as well, adding a horizontal line to the big red "X" that was engraved on the mercenary's body. Nazo sneered at the man before hopping onto his other foot and kicking him in the middle of the scarlet asterisk that had been made.

Max fell back, coughing up blood as it leaked into his lungs. "You fool! It would have been better if he had been the one to die," Nazo seethed in rage. He blinked, his eye returning to normal. The prescence retreated from everyone's minds, leaving them to try to gather the pieces of what Nazo's rampage had broken. "He is a danger to all around him! As he tries to protect, all he does is destroy. He is nothing more than a bloodthirsty animal, lying dormant until the scent of fresh blood awakens it. He will consume everything around him, leaving shattered hearts and tainted memories for all in his wake."

Nazo sighed, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I suppose the bond of friendship you had with him gave you the strength to do that. It's too bad that my Soul Ravage mystic arte can't completely immobilize the victims. Such is the price of peering into the souls of so many. I suppose his existence can be tolerated for a little while longer."

"Max!" Robert shouted as he finally snapped out of the daze that the bizarre arte had placed on him. Robert scrambled up to his dying friend. "Max! Stay with me!" Robert said, looking desperately into his friends dying eyes.

"Robert..." Max wheezed, "Ya shouldn'… blame yerself… fer wha' happened."

"What are you talking about, Max?" Robert asked as Raine rushed to the heavily wounded man and began to heal his grievous wounds.

Nazo shook his head. "Don't bother healing him, half-elf. Either way, he's going to die in a few minutes."

"He's lost a lot of blood, and some of his vital organs have suffered lacerations, but he can survive," Raine responded without looking at the Lord.

Nazo chuckled. "The curse will reach his heart soon, anyway. Once it does, then it doesn't matter what condition he is in, the man will die."

"What are you talking about? What curse?" Lloyd demanded.

Nazo lifted his weapons, coated in the man's blood. "Such is the effect of Cursed Steel. If it cuts flesh, then the curse, known as Withering, will slowly travel to the victim's heart. Once it reaches the heart, then the curse will activate, and the victim will wither away. With his wounds so close to his heart, he has five minutes to live, at the most." Nazo smiled slightly. "You'll see it first-hand shortly."

Max fell into a small fit of coughing, breathing better now that Raine had healed some of his wounds. "Robert…" he called out. "Ya never told me wha' happened, but I figured it out."

Robert was taken aback. "You mean you knew that I…" he trailed.

Max smiled grimly as he nodded. "Ya never would talk about wha' happened tha' day and ya always tried ta avoid fightin' since then," he continued, his sentences occasionally interrupted by bouts of coughing up blood.

"Oh boy, we get to listen to a dying man give a heartwarming and heroic speech to his friend with his last breath. I'm so excited," Nazo said sarcastically. Everyone did their best to ignore him, though Sylpher glared daggers at him.

Max continued, "Ya need ta move on, Robert. Ya've lost yer focus on wha's important."

"I find it rather odd that no one has considered attacking me yet," Nazo interjected, "I mean, this man is dying and despite the fact that ninety percent of us can't hear a word he's saying, we all just stand around and stare at the scene. I would have thought someone would have sneaked around me and stabbed me in the back by now or something!"

"Focus on th' enemy, Robert." Max gasped, his breathing becoming labored once more. Raine desperately tried to finish resealing the wounds, but no matter how much healing magic she used, the dying man's condition only worsened. "Use tha' skill ya've been given, and focus all tha' rage on who it is ya wan' ta kill. You can' just lock part a yerself awa-"

Max broke off in a fit of coughing. He began to thrash about, clutching his heart as if it pained him.

"Max! Hang in there, Max! You can't die on me!" Robert said, tears falling from his eyes.

"About time, too. I was wondering how long it would take for Withering to shut him up. He's a rather stubborn one to have lasted this long," Nazo sighed. Raine bashed him over his head with her staff, surprising the bandaged villain.

"Can't you be quiet and stop trying to kill the mood for an instant?" She demanded.

Nazo shrugged, rubbing his head. "Death brings life and life brings death. It is the way of the world. It is foolish to fill someone's passing with such heavy feelings," he explained. "Besides, it is my way to speak my mind, and some of my thoughts were rather legitimate questions to which I still have received no answer."

Max cried out in pain. His loud, terrified wail filled the room as his body radically changed before their eyes. Black lines began to spread all over Max's body, originating from his heart and following his veins. Everywhere the lines touched, his skin shrank and dried, following the contour of his skeleton. The muscular arms became loose and flabby, the skin shrinking as the muscle beneath faded. His lips peeled back from his teeth, showing a skeletal grimace as his eyes glazed over and rapidly rotted away into nothingness. His skin darkened so that it was the same hue and texture as parchment. The man had become nothing more than a withered husk, devoid of all moisture and looking very much as if he had died hundreds upon hundreds of years ago.

"Max," Robert whispered sadly as he touched the dried corpse's shoulder. At his touch, the skin caved in and made a sound similar to that of a handful of dead leaves being crushed. The armor and clothing that the mercenary had worn was now far too large for the shrunken body, and it all hung loosely about the dead man's frame.

"He's finally succumbed. Now I can get back to the reason I came here in the first place," Nazo sighed in relief.

"Shut up!" Robert growled before Nazo could utter another syllable. "Shut up, you bastard!"

Robert leapt to his feet and practically ripped his scythe from its holster on his back. So eager was he to cut into his opponent that he flicked the weapon open as he swung it.

Nazo was caught by surprise, but managed to react quickly enough. He raised his arm-blade and blocked the scythe from getting anywhere near him. "A little hasty, aren't we?" Nazo asked. Robert answered with a knuckle sandwich.

Nazo reeled backward. He allowed his arm-blade to slide out of the scythe's way as he gracefully balanced on the rips of his arm-blades. He continued to turn in midair until he was able to bring his feet around and put them back underneath them. As his feet touched the ground, his arms remained where they were, making it so the man bent himself in half. It was as if the move had been practiced, so perfect and graceful was the execution.

Robert wasted no time marveling at the man's flexibility and grace. He roared as he charged after Nazo. Nazo calmly stood back up and twisted his body out of the way of the scythe.

It was almost like something out of a cartoon as Nazo bent his body in impossible ways. Robert lashed out at his shoulder, but Nazo just bent his best like a card and the scythe passed harmlessly through empty space.

Suddenly, Nazo leapt into a back-flip. He kept on rotating from his arm-blades to his feet until he was a good distance away.

"Dammit! Get back here so I can rip your spine from your back!" Robert shouted, clearly gone mad with bloodlust. He was making no attempts to control himself this time.

"I'd love to see you try," Nazo responded, "But I have business to take care of! These hallowed grounds must be prepared for the moment that draws near. Your filth has remained here long enough!" Nazo raised his arms as he let out a shout, "Come, my Knights! The time is now!"

Three portals of roiling black smoke formed around Nazo. Three men came from them, each dressed partly in bandages like Nazo, but also a mixture of regular clothing was thrown in. Each had their face uncovered as well.

One wielded a katana while the next carried a heavy poleaxe. The third held a pair of daggers in a reverse grip.

As the three Knights stepped from their portals, the ground began to rumble. Around the entire encampment, a wall of black mist rose from the ground. Everyone looked around in fear as wisps of the strange vapor wafted out from the wall. Suddenly, hundreds upon hundreds of the lizard-beasts began to file out of the mist. Soon, there was a force as large as the mercenaries and scholars combined surrounding them.

Everyone looked hopelessly at the sudden turn in the tides of the fight. "Once, just once, I'd like everything to not go from bad to worse to just plain hopeless for us," Genis sighed. "We always seem to get sucked in way over our heads."

"We've survived worse than this. As long as we all work together, I'm sure we can make it through this time, too," Colette said.

"Yes, though Genis is right. We do seem to be drawn towards conflicts such as these," Raine mused.

"Well, you guys have survived this far, and I'm sure we've inherited at some of whatever luck has kept you alive, so if we can take it, complaining is a waste of time," Thomas said.

"Yeah, but it gives us something to do while we wait to fight for our lives," Sylpher replied.

Thomas opened his mouth to speak before closing it. "…That is true," he said thoughtfully, "but we could also use this time to-"

"As amusing as this conversation is," Sylvia interrupted, "we're currently surrounded by hundreds of undead lizard-things that don't die very easily and are giving us some very hungry looks. Is this really the best time to be having a friendly debate?" she asked.

Thomas and Sylpher looked at each other before looking at her. "Yes," they answered in unison.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**A little comic relief at the end. I figured I've given you guys enough suspenseful cliffhangers for the time being. **_

_**Robert: It took you long enough to write this.**_

_**Oh be quiet. I've been busy and I never liked what was happening until I changed it to this. So this is like the tenth rewrite of the chapter.**_

_**And, I've been plagued by plot bunnies.**_

_**Robert: What?**_

_**Plot bunnies. You know, ideas for a story that come and go through my mind as they please, distracting me from this story. There's a lot of them in my mind. I want to get rid of some of them, but they're just so cute!**_

_**Robert: … did you just say cute?**_

_**Yeah, I did. Here, look at this picture of one. (Holds up picture of rabbit with blood-drenched fur, razor sharp teeth, and devil horns)**_

_**Robert: O.O … no comment. **_

_**Anyway, what do you guys think of Nazo? He's a guy covered from head to toe in bandages who never blinks and has a violet eye that becomes a scarlet, serpentine eye when he does close his eye, can delve into the minds of his opponents and rip them apart emotionally, can bend his body in unnatural ways, and has a small obsession with people's souls. **_

_**Robert: We already knew all of that. What we want to know is what Nazo is. He can't be human, or elven, or… anything I can think of.**_

_**That's a secret. ;)**_

_**I'm going to try to update really soon to make up for the long time of not updating. Next chapter shouldn't be as hard to write.**_


	10. Chapter 10: The Mysterious Nazo

_**Whoo! Spring Break was awesome!**_

_**Nazo: why is that?**_

_**The senior class trip this year was a cruise! And, to get to the port we were leaving from, most of the senior class (not that big, only about 30 people or so) along with the chaperones got on a bus and drove there. ROAD TRIP and a CRUISE! How awesome is that?**_

_**Nazo: Seeing as I've experienced neither, I wouldn't know.**_

_**Oh, yeah, good point. There was one downside, however.**_

_**Nazo: Dare I ask…? **_

_**It was really uncomfortable trying to sleep on that bus.**_

_**We also spent a day in Disney World. Me and my group of close friends went to Hollywood Disney and had a great time while everyone else went to Magic Kingdom. While there, I got to meet Darth Vader, went on the Tower of Terror ride, and I learned how far the fingers of Disney reached into movies and other such things. They are HUGE!**_

_**Nazo: to be honest, no one here cares about your personal life except for you.**_

_**You never know. Besides, I needed to explain to them why I didn't update during Spring Break.**_

_**Nazo: and to do that you went off and rambled.**_

_**Yep.**_

_**Nazo: (shakes head sadly) you poor, poor soul.**_

_**You do know I created you, right? And that I control your future within the next several thousand words?**_

_**Nazo: you poor, poor, **_**poor**_** soul.**_

… _**whatever.**_

_**Anonymous reviews**_

_**None… **_**:D**_** (I'm rampaging on the inside)**_

_**I only got one review for last chapter. PEOPLE DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE! WAAAHAHAAAAA! (uncontrollable weeping)**_

_**Nazo: … just hold it in, Nazo. You can live through it long enough to avoid having to slit his throat. No matter how much his prattling voice irritates you, you have to avoid slitting his throat.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 10: The Mysterious Nazo

Robert looked around at the massive numbers that now faced the researchers and mercenaries. Slowly, a smile borne from madness wormed its way onto his face. He threw his head back and cackled madly. "It doesn't matter how many there are!" he roared in his madness. "I'll slay them all! Numbers just mean that I get to cut more flesh and spill more blood!"

Robert whipped his head back down and gestured to everything around him. "The sweet nectar will rain down upon me, the wondrous odor filling my nostrils as I steal the lives of my foes." Robert gazed intently at Nazo. "But before that joy is allowed to me, I will stain your white linens the most beautiful shade of red!" he growled, a manic smile breaking out as he giggled sinisterly while slowly advancing. It was rather poetic, in a psychotic, bloodthirsty sort of way.

Nazo stared back at Robert. "As entertaining as that sounds," he said, "I think I'll pass. You three know the drill. Begin the purge once the Cinder Crystals are broken." With that final order, Nazo stepped through a portal and vanished.

"Why is he leaving?" Colette asked. "It sounded like what he needed to do was here."

"I don't think he left. He probably used the portal to cross the crowd without having to go through it," Genis told her.

"IT'S POINTLESS TO TRY AND HIDE, YOU SLAB OF FLESH!" Robert screeched into the air, his voice so loud the sentries could have heard him, assuming they were still alive. "I CAN FEEL YOUR FILTHY, BLOOD-LADEN PRESCENCE!"

Robert turned around and started sprinting towards the wall with the mural of the demon dragon. The mercenaries and scholars noticed this and panicked to get out of the berserker's way. Any unfortunate soul that was unable to do so was left with a deep slash wound from the Clockwork Scythe. These few unfortunates were quickly tended to, however, bringing Robert's human casualties to a minimum.

Raine had been weighing their options as all of this took place. The numbers of the creatures were still growing rapidly, and it was clear that there was no way they could survive a fight. Fortunately, there was an oversight in the formation of the ranks of the lizard-beasts. Near the entrance, the creatures' numbers were thinner, and the black portal through which the beasts poured out had stopped leaking them. It was their only chance of survival.

"Everyone, listen to me," she whispered urgently, loud enough for everyone to hear her. "As soon as the chance presents itself, we need to head towards the exit. There are far too many creatures for anyone to be able to survive if we stay here. Our best chance is to break through the circle where it's weakest, which happens to be near the exit, and make a run for it."

"But what about everyone else? Shouldn't we tell them?" Colette asked, worried for the welfare of the others.

"Don't underestimate them, Colette. You forget, scholars from the Imperial Research Academy make up roughly a third of our numbers. The mercenaries are all well-trained and experienced as well, so they will likely have already noticed the weak point and made plans to exploit it." Raine reassured her.

Meanwhile, the twins had decided to find out what exactly the creatures were. Pulling out a pair of lens, they held them up to their eyes and examined one with armor and one without. Frowning slightly, they tossed the tools away as their magical aura faded.

"The ones without armor are called Bio-Doulos. They don't have any weaknesses or strengths. For some reason, their race is unlisted," Sylpher reported.

"I got the same results for the ones with armor. Except their names are Bio-Soldiers," Sylvia added.

Kratos frowned. If a Magic Lens couldn't identify something's race, then something was very wrong. Magic Lenses were renowned for their abilities to identify anything and everything.

"They are known as Minions," the Knight with the katana said as he approached, followed by the other two. His voice was deep and calm. It was very alluring and seemed to lull the listener gently to sleep. "Minions' race cannot be identified because they should not exist."

"The creatures made by a necromancer shouldn't exist, and yet they can be identified by a Magic Lens. If a Minion, as you called them, shouldn't exist, then their race should still be able to be identified." Kratos said.

"Minions are the spawn of Death-Demons, you nitwit. Because a Death-Demon shouldn't exist, then a Minion shouldn't exist either. It's common sense," the knife-wielder sneered.

"You are totally justified in being completely obnoxious, you know," Genis said sarcastically, "I mean, it's not like we've never heard of Death-Demons or Minions, and it's not like we know absolutely nothing about them."

"I don't like your tone, half-elf," the Knight growled.

Genis jumped in surprise. "H-How did-"

"Aionis-infusions, dumbass," he jeered.

The katana-wielder held out a hand to silence his colleague. "Death-Demons are the Lords ranked Twelve to Five. Each has a different form and element. They are creations made by our master, and because of what our master is, they shouldn't exist. They are neither living nor dead nor undead. The undead are created from things that do exist. And so, it is not that they shouldn't _exist_, it's that they shouldn't be _alive_.

But Death-Demons and Minions are not like the undead. They absolutely should not be in existence at all. As a result, nothing can identify their race. And, because they shouldn't exist, the gods gave humanity a way to seal them off."

"If they are sealed, then how come the Minions are still out and about?" Lloyd asked.

"No one is certain when the Bio-class of Minions appeared. Some speculate that they are made by the Death-Demon of Life, though there never was such a Death-Demon." The man with the poleax said.

"Are there any particular reasons as to why you're just chatting like you're friends with us? Or is it just a tradition among you Knights to talk with someone before you enter mortal combat with them?" Thomas asked.

The Knight hefted his weapon up so it rested on his shoulder. "Believe it or not, most of us are decent people. Many were deceived into making the deal with the devil. Very few joined by choice."

"So you're all virtual slaves," Raine said, her voice filled with pity.

"We're even more than that, I'm afraid." The Knight with the katana said. "To receive an order from our master and disobey it is literally impossible for us to do. No matter how much we try to resist, we must obey."

"Sure, you wusses don't like it. I'm perfectly fine with being that skeleton's underling. I get incredible strength, resistance to death, and to top it all off, the boss is my kind of guy!" the knife-wielder cackled.

"It's getting really hard to keep myself from burning that annoying sneer off his face," Sylvia muttered.

"As if you could, you little whore!" he sneered in response, laughing as Sylvia made to charge at him, only to be held back by her companions. "You see, you're friends know what will happen to you if you try!"

The Knight with the katana put his hand on his companion's shoulder forcefully. "You will stand down until the Cinder Crystals have been destroyed. Those are our orders, and we will obey them. It has been the same at every single one of the seals, and it is the same here." The knife-wielder snorted in anger, but obeyed his superior's orders and kept his mouth shut.

"What do you mean by 'other seals'? You mean there are more places like this?"Colette asked.

"Of course there are! You didn't think all eight Death-Demons would be sealed in the same place, did you?" the leader answered her politely.

"Well, I guess it would be kind of silly to do that," Colette answered.

"We've already visited all the others, this is the last one." The man with the poleax told them.

Suddenly, the voice of Nazo carried out across the room. "In the light, a blade of Cursed Steel will shine," he chanted.

The three Knights shifted. "Looks like it's about time to start," the man with the poleax sighed.

"Coated in the purest red wine,"

The katana-wielder bowed his head in respect to his opponents. "It seems the time for questions is ending. I apologize for what has to occur," he said.

"Add to the mix the source of an Unborn's curse,"

The knife-wielder threw his head back and laughed. "About time we got some action! I've been waiting for this the whole time!"

"And unleash it all in one big burst! Atrum Nex!" Nazo finished. As he let out the final line of the mysterious chant, four two-story-wide orbs of ebony flames launched themselves at the four corners of the mural. Many of the scholars and mercenaries gave a shout of surprise as the temperature in the room dropped dramatically when the four Atrum Nexes exploded. For an instant, one's breath was visible, but the moment soon passed as the fire faded and heat was restored to the room.

The wall had suffered no damage from the blasts. Not a single pebble had been moved from its surface. It was as if the attack had never occurred. Then, the true purpose Nazo's assault became clear.

The crystals that formed the runes around the carving began to crack. In a heartbeat, they all shattered, sending their glittering remains to fall to the earth below. A change occurred throughout the cavern as the presence of something massive, something powerful, something with naught but malicious intent made itself known. The presence was stifled somewhat, but it was there nonetheless. Some great evil slumbered behind the wall, and it was a beast the likes of which none of them had ever faced before. But, it was far from awakening. Despite the loss of the Cinder Crystals, which obviously formed the seal, the alleged Death-Demon did not awaken to wreak havoc upon the world once more.

* * *

Robert Caston was bored. Here he was, fighting his way through a massive horde of creatures that should not exist in pursuit of a bastard that had the uncanny ability to render one's mind into an easily moldable lump of clay, and he was bored. The reason? It was rather simple, actually.

The blasted beasts just stood there, not even defending themselves as he cut down those in his way. They didn't attack, they didn't move, they were like dolls that turned to dust as they were killed.

"Fight back, you pathetic cowards! It's no fun if I don't run the risk of being at least slightly injured!" he shouted at the Bio-Doulos still standing in his way. He cut a cross into the air in front of him, cleanly cutting one creature into fourths while dealing fatal blows to several others. He braced himself as if he were about to charge forward with the Clockwork Scythe held behind him and in the blink of an eye, he covered ten feet, easily separating the bodies of several lizard-beasts from their legs. "Scythe of the Slain!"

He didn't have far to go until he reached his target. Only twenty feet remained before he reached the black wall of cloud that was the portal for the beasts. After that, he merely had to get over it and he would be able to kill the man whose blood cried out for him to spill. Vaguely, he was aware of the slime-sac chanting something, though he could care less what he was blathering about now.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" the berserker shouted as he carved another cross into the air, following this one by cutting an "X" over it as well, forming an eight-pointed asterisk. Robert took another charger's stance and flashed across another ten feet, leaving a trail of dust in his wake as he mowed down the docile creatures with ease. Unlike the previous arte, the corpses were removed of their heads instead of being cut into two. "Scythe of the Executed!"

As he readied himself to make his final move to get to his target, Robert was stunned as four massive explosions echoed across the room and the temperature took a nosedive. Finally, the beasts seemed to react as Robert looked over the portal wall to see the wall of the ruins behind it engulfed in black fire.

Robert's desire for the beasts to stop standing there and put up a fight came true the moment the flames died and the crystals around the edges of the wall shattered. They began to roar and hiss, taking notice of the human that had delved into their midst for the first time. Robert's grin stretched across his face once more as he swung his scythe in a wide arc, giving many of the beasts around him deep wounds.

"Playing dead won't do a thing!" Robert cried as he once again cut the asterisk into the air. "I can feel the blood pumping in your veins!" Robert giggled evilly as the beasts crumbled to nothing. A Bio-Soldier, however, managed to survive thanks to its armor. Robert was behind the armored lizard-beast in an instant, cutting a gash in its armor as he moved almost too fast for the eye to track. From behind it, he kicked it into the air and jumped after it. An uppercut with his scythe knocked it further into the air. In the same motion, Robert tossed the Clockwork Scythe into the air and pulled out a large dagger that had been hidden in his boot. He proceeded to deliver a series of slashes that heavily injured the Minion. Robert quickly re-sheathed the dirk and hooked an arm around the beast's neck so he could get a grip beneath its chin and force its head up, exposing its throat. "Your time is up!" he said as he caught his falling scythe and brought the blade to rest on the beast's neck. Robert planted his feet firmly against his prey's back and pushed with all his might while pulling back on the scythe. The monster's head fell free from its body as Robert pushed himself away, flying through the air and over the portal wall, just as he planned. "Scythe of the Reaper!"

Nazo watched coldly as Robert landed in a crouched position, ready to pounce like a cat while also being able to easily dodge in any direction. "Well, well, I must say I am impressed," the Lord said, giving the berserker an appraising look. Robert was drenched in blood from the Minions, his trench coat flopping around like a wet towel while his pale skin was stained an eerie shade of red. Even his teeth set in that psychotic grin had flecks of blood painting them red, though they vanished as Robert hungrily licked his lips. The Clockwork Scythe's color had gone from a steely gray to a bright red as it gorged itself upon the enemies of its wielder. "I honestly expected you to be swamped by Minions and overpowered through sheer numbers. But it is clear that you moved faster than I expected."

"Save your words," Robert spat, "I'm just here to drown myself in your blood."

Nazo chuckled darkly. "You can try, my dear Robert, you can try, just as you always have…" he said under his breath, far too softly for Robert to hear. He prepared himself for the coming fight.

At the same moment, the black wall-portal fell, signaling an end to the influx of the lizard-creatures. Thousands had gathered by now, legions of foes painting the landscape a sickly brown.

* * *

Sylpher grunted at his ax met with the poleax of his opponent. Presea tried to blindside the assailing Knight, but the man just kicked her away with a blow to her gut before leaping back to deliver another strike. "No hard feelings!" the Knight said as he knocked Sylpher's ax from his hands with the sheer strength of his blow.

Meanwhile, the katana-wielder was holding his own against a two pronged strike from both Kratos and Thomas. His speed was incredible as the elegant weapon cut through the air, blocking the swords of fire and ice with expert precision. If one looked closely, he could see that the Knight was hard-pressed to accomplish this, but form a glance it looks as if he was doing it easily. After parrying a final blow from Kratos, the man jumped back to give himself some more space.

"I probably should have mentioned this before, but I am the Tenth Knight, the weakest ranked Knight. My name is Kojiro." He said, raising his blade to his chest in a salute. "I will fight with everything I am, and I expect no less from my opponents."

"Aren't you supposed to introduce yourself before you start fighting?" Thomas asked.

"That's not important right now. Focus on the fight." Kratos ordered as he charged Kojiro. The Knight proceeded to duel with Kratos as Thomas ran to catch up.

"In response to your question, I am not well-known for my coherent thoughts. I am easily distracted, and I tend to be a bit scatter-brained," Kojiro answered as he continued to parry their blows. As if in response to his words, Thomas slashed at Kojiro, who didn't notice in time and only barely managed to avoid a lethal blow.

The knife-wielder was engaged with Lloyd and Colette. They had him on the defensive, the man desperately dodging Lloyd's lightning fast sword strokes and parrying the chakrams that Colette flung at him. The man jumped back before swiping at Lloyd, who merely ducked under the attack and went in to deal a fatal blow.

The knife-wielder stretched out a hand and smirked. "Fireball!" he said and three balls of fire flew from his palm and thrust themselves into Lloyd's face. A simple spell, but the speed it was cast was still incredible. As the twin swordsman stumbled back from the pain and the sickening scent of burnt flesh filled the air, a green glow appeared about him, healing the burnt skin and dulling the pain.

"First Aid!" Riane cast. Lloyd nodded thanks to her and dove back into the fray, forcing the knife-wielder onto the defensive.

All in all, the Knights were holding themselves quite well against overwhelming odds. Of course, the mages had yet to add to the fight. As soon as that happened, it would all be over.

Suddenly, an enormous sword softly shining with an electric purple glow appeared above the man with the poleax. Sylpher and Presea quickly got a safe distance away from the spell as it came crashing down and sent thousands upon thousands of volt of electricity coursing though it's victim. The current quickly became too much for the magic sword and the weapon shattered. "Thunder Blade!" Genis shouted, already preparing to manipulate the mana around him for another spell.

The Knight stood there, stunned from the sudden magical assault. Before he could recover, Presea was charging him, her large ax easily cutting through him. The man gasped in pain and shock as he felt the lower half of his body separate from him. Pain screamed throughout his body, but he was unable to make a sound. Every second lasted an eternity. Finally, the pain faded and everything became black as Sylpher took pity upon the man and ended his life.

In the same moment, Sylvia finished her spell. "Detonation!" she cast, flinging the fire mana at the knife-wielder. Sensing the approaching magic, he hastily constructed a shield of mana. He completed it just before a small series of explosions were set off. The flames from the blasts didn't touch the Knight, but the shockwaves proved too powerful for the shield to fully deflect and he was thrown onto his back.

Lloyd took advantage of the moment and ran towards his enemy. The knife-wielder hastily rolled to the side, expecting Lloyd to impale him on the ground. Instead Lloyd slammed his sword against the ground with enough force to send chunks of the ground flying. "Fierce Demon Fang!"

The debris from the arte tore into the Knight's leg, earning a scream of pain. He struggled to his feet and tried to limp away while casting healing magic upon his leg. Unfortunately for him, he was too preoccupied to notice the chakram singing through the air at his neck. The weapon buried itself into his throat, knocking him to the ground again.

He immediately started to treat his neck, abandoning his leg in favor of the dire wound. Lloyd didn't give the man a chance and plunged both his swords into his chest. After a moment of struggling to cast a final spell out of spite, the man became limp as life left his body.

Kojiro didn't spare a glance from his efforts to deflect the attacks of his assailants, but he could tell that he was now the only one of the three that was still alive. His ears perked as he heard someone approaching him from behind. It was then that he realized he would be able to deal at least some damage to their targets, possibly even kill one.

Taking a more offensive stance, Kojiro forced both of his opponent's blades back with a powerful swing. Before they could do anything, he spun around and punched Sylpher into the air just as the fourth-elf was raising his ax to perform a killing blow. Sylpher was launched into the air and Kojiro jumped to follow. Lightning quick sword-strokes cut across Sylpher's body. He barely had time to register pain before he was struck in the head with the hilt of Kojiro's katana and flung to the ground. "The Fourth Circle!" Sylpher landed with a thud and a shrill cracking sound filled the air.

Sylpher clutched at his chest only to pull away from it as pain roared across his body. Every tiny motion amplified the agony tenfold. He didn't feel Presea run to her wounded child. He didn't see as both Kratos and Thomas slew the Tenth Knight. He didn't hear the cries of worry and concern around him. The pain blocked out all of his senses.

Slowly, as adrenaline dulled the pain that paralyzed him, Sylpher was able to hear Thomas ask him if he was alright. Sylpher fought the urge to glare at the Thomas, since doing so would cause another wave of agony to sweep over him.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Nevermind the fact that I just got cut up then thrown to the ground at fifty miles an hour," he managed to growl between grit teeth.

"He'll be fine," Thomas responded.

Raine mentally sighed as she treated her nephew's wounds. The cracking sound from before was most likely his back. A quick inspection with a mana probe proved her suspicions to be true. She began to heal the wounds on his chest. Though deep, they hadn't broken any ribs or cut into any internal organs. They would not be too troublesome to heal, but they placed his life in immediate danger.

The back, however, would be a much larger problem. It could wait, but the longer they took to heal it, the more likely it would cause permanent damage. And in their current situation, if they didn't start moving soon, they wouldn't be able to escape death. Besides, it would take far too long to heal.

She nodded as she finished healing the cuts on his chest. "We don't have time for me to heal your back, Sylpher, so you won't be able to walk. You shouldn't move too much or else you only end up agitating the injury. Sylvia, Thomas, I want you two to carry him out of here on a stretcher." Raine instructed. Even as she spoke, she was constructing a make-shift stretcher out of two tent poles and a blanket.

"Wouldn't it be smarter to just let one person to carry him? Mom or Dad or Kratos could manage it alone with their angelic strength," Thomas suggested.

Raine shook her head. "No, that wouldn't do. Shifting his body too much will only worsen his problem. I need you two to gently move him onto this and then carry him out. We need to hurry. The rest of you, go on ahead and help everyone else fight through the Minions towards the exit."

Kratos had already gone ahead once Sylpher was done being healed, knowing Raine would be able to handle the rest sufficiently. Genis, Lloyd, and Colette, nodded and ran to catch up with him, knowing that Raine was right and having faith in their old teacher. Presea cast one last look of worry at her son before she too headed off.

Raine turned to examine the battle that raged around them. It was obvious that there was little hope of escape. Thankfully, to her relief, the fighting was concentrated in the direction of the exit, which would soon be reached. Just as she suspected, the scholars and mercenaries had realized that their only hope of living was to fight their way out. A small though nagged her at the back of her mind. If Nazo truly wanted them dead, then why didn't he fortify the walls of Minions near the exit? Raine dispelled the thoughts and rushed to help anyone that needed the aid of a healer.

* * *

Nazo was having fun.

It was a strange thought. Alien and unfamiliar in the mind of the bandaged man who had known only pain and suffering for thousands of years. He secretly enjoyed watching others suffer beneath the curse of Withering brought on by his weapons.

Withering was a terrible curse, one that only existed in the Evitagen where Latem Evitagen, the Cursed Steel, existed. To wield blades made from the very metal that tortured the enemies of Xeralisk was an incredible honor. Very few had been bestowed that honor, and among those few, Nazo was the only one who was willing to use it. He was also the only one that Xeralisk didn't give the ore of the Cursed Steel to.

Nazo smiled at the memory of the shock in the skeleton's voice when it was discovered that Nazo wielded blades made of Cursed Steel. The smile widened as Robert charged him, slashing his scythe in an attempt to cut the man in half. Nazo charged as well, sliding to his knees as the two approached. By doing so, Nazo ducked under Robert's attack and slid past him.

As Nazo slid by Robert's leg, he lashed out at the back of his heel, hoping to find a weak spot in the dragon hide armor. To his disappointment, his weapon cut into the armor, but was stopped before it could cut flesh. Then, a shiver went through his body and Nazo's grin widened even more.

Robert was thrown off balance by the attack at his feet and he stumbled as he tried to catch his balance. Robert whipped himself around and gave his prey a wide-eyed glare. "Stand still so I can rip you to shreds, you bastard!" he screamed, charging again.

Nazo leapt spinning into the air. His arm-blades swept towards Robert's face, but Robert brought his scythe up to protect himself before he could be injured. Nazo pushed off of Robert the moment the weapons clashed, prolonging his time in the air and stopping his forward momentum and spinning himself so his feet were below him once more.

Nazo tried to assault Robert with a one-two combo from his foot-blades, but again the attack was blocked. Nazo had come to expect this from his opponent. The attack was more to off-balance his foe and set himself up to deliver a double strike with his arm-blades as he spun in the air once more.

Robert easily blocked the attack that would have otherwise split his head into three, giving Nazo the leverage to spin himself around quick enough to land gracefully on his feet. Unfortunately, the berserker didn't see the kick and was thrown onto his back. Robert slid for an instant before flipping himself back onto his feet.

Nazo sighed as he failed to cut through the armor once more. The fight had been an even match so far. Nazo couldn't use Robert's past against him, since Robert's only concern at the moment was killing Nazo. Robert's armor was certainly the only thing keeping him alive, since Nazo couldn't land a blow to Robert's head. Meanwhile, Nazo had avoided all attacks by either contorting his body in a way no human being possibly could or outright dodging them gracefully.

Robert glared at Nazo. The man had an unnatural grace and when combined with his inhuman flexibility, it made his fighting style comparable to that of a dance. All of his attacks were swift, smooth, graceful, and, in a way, beautiful. He fought quickly, using his unnatural flexibility to deliver relentless attacks.

Robert was sick of playing his game. He wanted blood! He wanted to see those strips of white linen dyed red by the blood of his foe. Rage filled his being and an unstable grin wormed onto his face.

"That's it!" Robert snarled. Immediately, a wave of mana rushed from Robert, freezing everyone as light seemed to fade from the room as the mystic arte began.

Robert stood at attention, greedily watching his weapon as flames began to flicker to life and twirl around the blade. "I don't care how deep into hell I go," the flames gave a small surge, "Slaughtering my enemies is the greatest joy I have." Robert turned to stare at Nazo, his eyes screaming for blood. His mouth was stretched as wide as it could go, malice and bloodlust oozing from the evil smile like pus from an infected wound. The fire cast a chilling light upon him, giving an onlooker the sense that they were looking at something dragged up from the depths of hell itself. "I'll slaughter everyone around me and bathe in their blood! Nothing will stop me from my massacres, nothing will wipe this grin from my face!" he shouted as he charged at Nazo.

He moved almost too fast to see, slashing a deep wound and running past before turning around and doing the same. He seemed to come from everywhere at once, dealing injuries that ranged from crippling to lethal in mere moments.

In the blink of an eye, Nazo had six deep cuts, the bandages around the wounds smoldering from the fires. Not a grunt of pain escaped Nazo as he was mortally wounded in an instant. Robert stopped in front of Nazo. The gleeful grin grew wider as Robert struck Nazo across the face with the blunt end of his scythe, knocking him over. Then, before Nazo could touch the ground, Robert buried the blade deep into his back, tossing him into the air slightly. Robert quickly pulled the blade out and brought the weapon crashing into Nazo's gut and pulled it out, leaving Nazo to hit the ground with a thud.

Robert then jumped into the air and raised his scythe high above his head. He hung there, suspended above his prey as the fire around his scythe grew. "I will keep sinning…" Robert panted, his face light up with sadistic excitement, "and I will keep grinning!" With a roar, Robert swung the Clockwork Scythe down and launched a ball of fire at Nazo. The orb of flames screamed into his chest, where it exploded. Finally, a cry of pain tore itself from Nazo's throat as he was carried away by the mystic arte. "Scythe of the Damned" Robert howled, relishing in the brutality of his assault, in the hopelessness his foe must be feeling.

Nazo flopped to the ground and rolled to a stop a short ways away, facing the ground. Robert landed and motion returned to the outside world.

Robert was feeling dizzy. His heart was pounding; his blood was rushing through his veins. The man who had killed his friend was dead, but that wasn't enough. He needed more, more blood, more death, more killing! He threw his head back and let out an insane laugh. He was alive! He was alive for the first time in years! He turned away from the broken body of his opponent, towards the masses of Minions and the humans and elves and half-elves beyond. All of them were there, just for him to kill. The grin was still plastered on his face as he stepped towards the greatest ecstasy he would ever know.

A shout of anger from behind caught his attention. Robert twirled, scythe raised to kill whoever dared to attack him, before stopping short in awe.

Nazo was in the air, hurtling toward him. Before Robert could react, Nazo had grabbed his arms and was pinning the man to the ground. Robert struggled, blind with rage. Then he saw the condition of the man on top of him, and his blood ran colder than Celsius herself.

Nazo was atop Robert, holding the berserker to the ground. Rage boiled in his eye as he panted and shook with rage. The injuries received from Robert's scythe were singed around the bandages, but that was the only thing that showed that he had been cut. No blood poured from them. No smoke rose from charred flesh. But the fact that Nazo was still alive isn't what shook Robert to his core, nor was it the fact that Nazo could still move.

It was the sight of Nazo's chest.

The fireball at the end had burned straight through, leaving a gaping hole. The explosion had done more damage and widened the hole and even reached through Nazo's back in a hole no wider than the span of his hand, but that still wasn't was scared Robert.

No, it was the fact that there was no man beneath the bandages. There was no heart, its steady rhythm showing life. There were no lungs, regularly drawing in breath. There were no bones, the sturdy curves offering support. There were no muscles, their strength granting motion. There was no blood pumped through veins, spreading nutrients and oxygen to the body. There was nothing there. Nazo didn't bleed because there was no blood to flow. Nazo didn't die because there was no man to kill! Nazo, the Thirteenth Lord of the Unborn, was nothing more than a hollow shell of bandages!

Robert stared in shock and horror. It wasn't possible! It wasn't possible and yet here it was, standing on top of him, pinning him to the ground and breathing heavily while glaring at him. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock upon the sight of this.

Nazo's red, serpentine eye glared at Robert. "That actually _hurt_," he growled. Robert winced as he felt Nazo's presence enter his mind. "YOU ACTUALLY MANAGED TO MAKE ME FEEL PAIN, YOU FILTHY SACK OF BONES!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**I love this chapter's title.**_

_**Nazo: why?**_

_**Because you're name is Japanese for "mystery", so in reality the title of the chapter is "The Mysterious Mystery." **_

_**Nazo: you actually named the most mysterious and abnormal and obscure villain "mystery"?**_

_**Yep, though some might argue that that description would fit Feral more. There is usually a reason behind most names. On that note, did you know that Lucifer, the name of the devil, actually means "Light Bringer"?**_

_**Nazo: What does that have to do with anything?**_

_**Absolutely nothing. I just felt like spouting off random knowledge. **_

_**Nazo: why do I put up with you?**_

_**Because I force you to. **_

_**Nazo: Just like you've forced me to listen to "Sin with a Grin" while you wrote about Robert's mystic arte.**_

_**It's a good song! One of my favorites by Shinedown. And besides, it became berserk-Robert's theme song.**_

_**Nazo: Very fitting. It's difficult not to associate his psychotic, blood-soaked grin with the song now.**_

_**I've been waiting to use those artes of Robert's for a while now, especially his mystic arte. But he seems kind of overpowered, considering he just owned the Thirteenth Lord of the Unborn.**_

_**Nazo: until I cut him down to size.**_

_**Was this before or after you had a giant hole blown into your body from his mystic arte?**_

_**Nazo: … I am nowhere near dead. Besides, it was a small miscalculation. I was holding back. The only thing of true wonder that happened was that he managed to make me feel pain.**_

_**Sure, Nazo. Whatever you say.**_

_**Nazo: …**_

_**You know what makes me sad?**_

_**Nazo: I could find out without having to hear your annoying voice if you allow me to search your soul.**_

_**There are things in there that even you would cringe from, Nazo. But anyway, it's that only my faithful reviewer known as Dr. Bob reviewed my last chapter. Those things make me so happy, but I only got the one from Dr. Bob. Is it because I took so long to update that you don't review? Is it because I forgot to tell you people to review?**_

_**Please tell me! I must know! If it's a problem with me then I'll do my best to change it!**_

_**Nazo: I can't take it anymore, I need to find out how to shut him up! (gazes intently into my eyes as he searches my soul)**_

_**(I smile vacantly and offer no resistance)**_

_**Nazo: …(gags and tears head away in horror) oh dear gods above! What is wrong with you?**_

_**Everything **_**;)**

**Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee! My blood was up merely writing the ending. Anyone surprised by this? Anyone got a comment on it? Anyone got a suggestion for the story? If so, leave a review and make me super happy!**


	11. Chapter 11: Unlikely Saviors

_**Hmmm, I have a small dilemma.**_

_**I've run out of new OCs to put into my author's notes (I'm only using important figures. Kojiro doesn't count. He barely counts as an OC, in my book. He was made purely so that he could die) and I don't want to reuse OCs since this is only the eleventh chapter.**_

_**Juggernaut: Hey, Storyteller.**_

_**What the- What are you doing here? You're not a figment of my imagination, you're actually real! **_

_**Juggernaut: You're point? **_

_**You're my real friend (shocking, I know) and only products of my imagination have shown up here so far! YOU'RE BLATANTLY DISREGARDING THE SANCTITY OF MY MIND!**_

_**Juggernaut: Sanctity? What sanctity? You're mind is so jacked up that there's no place that's safe!**_

_**There is no safe haven for mere mortals such as you! Well, since you're already here, I guess you can stay.**_

_**Juggernaut: Not like you could make me leave.**_

_**Anonymous Reviews**_

_**... You have one guess as to how many I got.**_

_**Dr. Bob brought a very important point to me where many readers may have misunderstood what I wrote. Last chapter, Kojiro said that he was the Tenth Knight, the weakest of the **_**ranked**_** Knights. This means that only ten of the many Knights are ranked, and out of those ten he is the weakest. This does NOT mean that there are only ten Knights.**_

_**And for the record, I can make you leave here. I can summon Bios and have him do… things to you.**_

_**Juggernaut: What kind of "things"? **_

_**Horrible… unspeakable… terrible things. (shivers and hugs self) find a happy place, find a happy place…**_

_**Juggernaut: … WOW! He must have done something really bad.**_

_**(Huddled in the corner, curled up into a ball while gently rocking myself back and forth while whimpering in fear, eyes glazed over and seeing something beyond sight.) … The innocence… the purity…**_

_**Juggernaut: … Okay. Well, now would be a good time to tell you people that we're putting together a Legend of Zelda story as co-authors. **_

_**(Ignores him and giggles vacantly, gently singing) … We're a bitter rivalry. With a shotgun *ka-boom*Barney's on the floor-**_

_**Juggernaut: (glances over) **_**-_-' **_**Okay, seriously, you're starting to scare me.**_

_**-no more purple dinosaur!**_

_**Juggernaut: Let's just start the chapter…**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 11: Unlikely Saviors

"I can understand being able to hold your own against me since you have that armor, and I can even understand you managing to cut some bandages with your mystic arte," Nazo babbled, anger smoldering in his eyes like a raging inferno as he spoke so fast Robert could barely understand what he said. "But what I can't understand-" Nazo breathed hitched up as rage filled his being like a fever, "-IS HOW YOU MANAGED TO MAKE ME FEEL PAIN!"

Robert flinched as Nazo's outrage caused the alien presence in his mind to shift. Nazo leaned in and put his face right in front of Robert's nose. "You don't deserve to die. Allowing you to go to the afterlife is too much of a blessing!"

Robert's thoughts were whirling. There was no body, so that meant that the bandages that Nazo "wore" were actually the person. But cutting those sheets of linen didn't cause him pain, since it sounded like cutting the bandages and causing him pain were completely unrelated from what little he had gathered from the Lord's babbling. How was he supposed to kill this guy?

"Don't worry," Nazo cooed, seeing Robert's thoughts begin to scramble. He gently reached out and caressed Robert's face, as if trying to soothe him. "Your body will be fine. IT'S YOUR SOUL I'M GOING TO DESTROY!"

Malice, pure and unadulterated malice: that is what poured out of Nazo's soul into Robert's. It consumed the joys of life that Robert had experienced. It swamped the happy memories of bygone days. It devoured the sadness and regrets that had plagued Robert's life. Nothing was spared. Nothing stopped the pain that flowed freely throughout Robert's body. No, pain was too gentle a word, as was agony, and anguish. Nothing could describe the sheer horror of one's soul being torn apart, piece by tiny piece. A scream ripped out of Robert's throat as his very essence was torn to pieces and his soul was drowned in the torrent of pure hatred. "SOUL REND!"

"You've gone too far this time, Nazo," someone said in a voice full of vibrant life, his voice piercing through the veil of agony. The sound of tearing linen filled the air and Robert gasped for breath as the excruciating pain and anguish faded into emptiness as Nazo's presence left his mind. Linen bandages fell onto Robert. Dully, he realized that they were once Nazo. He struggled to lift his head to see his savior.

Standing over him was a man with jade eyes, dancing with life. He wore armor made of bones that covered his entire body except his forearms. His hand had yellowish claws extending from it about six inches. Robert glanced at the pile of bandages and saw the ones that had covered Nazo's head. Five cuts all the way across the lengths of the bandages were visible, effectively destroying the man that wasn't inside.

Bios sneered down at the dazed mercenary. "Be very happy I was ordered to stop Nazo's activities as soon as possible. That's the only reason you still have a soul." He snarled at him. Bios then gave a sharp kick to Robert's temple and the mercenary blacked out.

* * *

They were fighting for their lives. Minions to the right, Minions to the left, Minions to the front, and Minions to the back; There was no escape except victory. Everyone had made their way towards the weaker area, but there were still too many. The Minions never stayed down when they should, while the mercenaries and scholars fell with wounds that were actually lesser than those of their opponents.

Presea panted heavily as she cleaved another Bio-Doulo in half and bashed it in the face so the head couldn't try to bite her in the leg. She barely had any time to relax before another came to take its place. Lloyd wasn't faring much better. He could easily keep out of the way of the attacks thrown at him, but the Minion's tendency to keep fighting was taking its toll on his stamina. Kratos had retreated to the center so he might help wounded with his own healing spells, though his strength was fading fast. Raine had her hands more than full, barely able to summon the energy necessary to manipulate mana to formulate some of the most basic healing artes. Their supply of gels had long been exhausted. Genis panted with the strain to cast one final spell, but he knew it was futile. Colette nearly collapsed from the strain of casting Judgment repeatedly in an attempt to slay as many of the beasts as she could. Sylvia had cast herself out long ago and passed out from the strain of rapid-fire spells in such numbers. Thomas was on his last legs, the sheer coldness of his weapon doing more damage than the actual sword strokes. Sylpher was trying not to move and praying that nobody would step on him.

No matter how many spells were cast, no matter how many times they swung their weapons, there were always more. Only half of the original group of researchers and mercenaries was there, and exhaustion and fatigue was making easy prey out of the rest. Victory, the only escape, was unachievable.

The Minions were relentless. They thought nothing of it as their comrades were slaughtered. They feasted upon the fallen, consuming the dead even as the last breath of those who were dying left their lips.

Suddenly, a voice cried out amidst the tumult and chaos of battle. "New Moon!"

That was when everything changed.

* * *

Bios calmly glared at the ground a few feet away. "I know you're still here, Nazo. Just because I kept you from killing the whelp by slicing your head to ribbons doesn't mean I even caused the equivalent of a pinch in the level of pain that you felt." Silence answered the necromancer. "And just because I damaged your vessel to the point that it's unusable doesn't mean that you can't manifest yourself in a physical appearance. Show yourself, now!"

In response to the necromancer's demands, dust began to gather at the spot where Bios glared. Every speck that was spread across the room merged to a single point, making a rather large pile. Slowly, the pile molded itself into the shape of a man. As the transmutation finished, the figure raised its hand and wiped away some of the dust on the right side of its face. A violet eye was revealed, it gaze unflinching and unwavering. Hair that was an indescribably deep red fell into this eye, framing it beautifully.

"What the hell, Bios." Nazo growled, glaring at the Third Lord. "Why did you prevent that creature's death?"

Bios tilted his head curiously. "What do you mean, 'creature'? I'm fairly certain he is a human and has a gender. Male, I believe it is."

"Don't you dare try to classify _that_ as _anything!_ It shouldn't be alive. It should have died years ago, but it didn't. Because of that, it doesn't deserve to be acknowledged as something that should be alive!" Nazo barked.

Bios smiled wickedly. "You figured it out then."

"…"

Bios laughed. "I don't need you to tell me, and neither do I need your uncanny ability to search someone's soul to figure out that you know." Bios crossed his arms and looked away while closing his eyes. "The Master found out about your recent actions amongst the seals, however. And he was not happy. King Feral and I were sent over here to, and I quote, 'end that cotton-brained leper's moronic schemes and drag his diseased carcass back to him.' I chose to confront you myself, and Feral was left to deal with the Minions you commandeered."

Nazo chuckled. "And you figured if you arrived a little too late and gathered a few Cinder Crystals while you're at it, Xeralisk wouldn't mind at all." Bios's smirk widened. "Nothing's stopping you, you know."

"Bribes won't work, Nazo." Bios sighed, looking the man in the eye. "I owe myself to Xeralisk, through and through. I'm not like you, one of the rare few able to act against him."

"I never said I would go free. I was merely telling you that you may pass without interference from me."

Bios raised his eyebrows, but pulled out a bag and walked past Nazo. As Bios walked past Nazo, he stopped before leaning over and whispering something into Nazo's ear, or where it would be on a normal being. Nazo's eyes widened and he turned to face the necromancer. "He knows nothing of this?"

Bios shook his head.

"Then what is to keep me from telling Master Xeralisk about this to return to his favor?"

Bios smiled in response. He had been waiting for that question. "I believe Xeralisk may delve a little more into your past should he discover that you have no body. It was clever, using bandages to pose as a leper before him, but I can feel both disease and bodies. I've been on to you from the beginning."

Nazo's glare smoldered. "I will keep silent."

"Excellent."

* * *

The mana from the _creature_ that carried Kratos back to the Aurion family swamped the air. Those unused to the sensation of the choking mana froze at its touch. The Minions' reaction was rather different.

Every single Bio-Doulo and every single Bio-Soldier turned away from the exhausted mercenaries and scholars as they massed towards the source of the mana signature. Every single one of the fighters fell to the ground in relief, some gulping down as much water as they could while others just tried to feel their legs again.

Presea breathed deeply and forced herself back to her feet, using her axe as a crutch. She had to make sure her children were alright. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kratos do the same, as well as Lloyd and Colette. Slowly, they all made their way to where Sylpher's stretcher lay, Sylvia passed out next to it and Genis and Raine guarding it, though they couldn't do much in the condition they were in. Thomas crawled over as well, every fiber of himself screaming in protest at the movement.

"What the hell is that thing doing here?" Lloyd panted.

"This mana is the same as the person who brought Kratos, correct?" Raine asked.

"Yeah, but I don't understand why it's here. What's going on? I can't really see much since if I so much as twitch my entire body howls in pain." Sylpher asked.

Sylvia groaned as she groggily sat up. "We dead yet?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand.

"Nope," her brother answered.

"The mana signature of that strange man, if he can be called that, showed up and all the Minions are going after it," Thomas said, collapsed on the ground and breathing loudly.

Sylvia looked around. Suddenly her eyes widened in horror and she covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. "Look," she said, shakily raising her hand to point at the scene that had earned her attention. Thomas groaned as he forced himself to sit back up and look to where she pointed while Sylpher muttered something about how he would love to if his back wasn't broken.

Blood sprayed everywhere, creating a small cyclone of red around the scene. The _creature_ could be seen amidst the mob of the creatures, all of them trying to attack the demonic warrior.

His scythe flashed from one side to the other, bisecting, beheading, disemboweling, and slaughtering Minions everywhere it cut. Not a single one of the Bio-Doulos could get anywhere near the whirlwind of death, and even the armor of the Bio-Soldiers was sliced apart like tissue paper.

The man himself looked beyond menacing. His eyes were full of malice and rage. His expression spoke volumes of his hatred and anger. Every swing delivered a killing blow, every attack met its mark. Not a single scratch was landed upon the beast within the hurricane of blood and gore and metal and death.

The assault was beautiful in the same way that a bolt of lightning was beautiful. It struck fast and hard and its attacks were lethal and without remorse, and at the same time it inspired awe and fear in the hearts of those witnessing it. Surrounding the _creature_ and his weapon was an aura of rage and hatred, inspiring meekness in even the boldest amongst them, as well as an aura of sadness, adding to the mysterious allure of the obvious danger he posed.

The monsters were dwindling at three times the rate that they consumed the researchers and mercenaries. Soon, the only thing that was left of the beasts was a field of ashes. The _creature_ stood there amongst the remains of those he had slain.

Slowly, his body began to shake uncontrollably and the man held his hand to his face. He tentatively stepped down from his perch atop the highest pile and looked around. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Slowly, he began to relax and after a deep breath, he was calm. "Full Moon," said in a monotone voice.

The black and brown clothing of the man instantly altered itself. It inverted perfectly, the pitch-black becoming snow-white and the odd brown becoming an azure hue that rivaled that of the skies. His skin and hair did the same, reverting from a sickening blackish-green and the same odd brown as his clothes to a healthy peach tone and a bright sky-blue. Even the blade of his scythe changed, the black void beginning to softly shine in a pure-white light. He began to calmly walk towards them, the mercenaries and scholars quickly making a path, gazing in awe at the warrior that had saved them.

"What is he?" Thomas asked.

"Okay, I get the feeling I'm missing something that is freaking awesome. Am I missing something freaking awesome?" Sylpher asked.

"I've never seen something so horrific and beautiful at the same time," Colette gasped.

"I'm being ignored, which translates to a 'yes'. I don't care how much it hurts, someone prop me up so I can see!"

"Even his mana signature did a major U-turn. Something's not right with that guy." Genis mused aloud.

"Dammit, people, I'm missing all the good stuff! Aunt Raine, just hurry up and heal me so I can see what the hell is going on!"

"That is the man from Avalon. He was with Nazo." Kratos noted.

"Yeah, he was the one with the book." Sylvia said.

"Fine, you know what? I _don't_ want to know. It's not like this will probably be the coolest thing I'll ever see."

"Shut up, Sylpher. By the time you spoke up, it had already happened." Thomas barked.

"Well, you should have said that in the first place, instead of-"

Sylvia shushed the two before an argument could be started.

* * *

Bios quickly gather handful after handful of the strange gems that had once bordered the effigy of the Death-Demon. "If I may ask, why were you destroying the seals on the Death-Demons without permission?"

"I knew that no harm would come of it and it would only benefit our cause."

"Premature awakening can benefit our cause?"

Nazo snorted. "Xeralisk knows as well as I that the gods did more than just put a seal on them. They put a fail-safe spell and made it so only another Death-Demon can awaken a Death-Demon. The seals are more just to prevent anyone from tampering with the beasts."

Nazo stood up, hefting his bag full of Cinder Crystals. "There we go. I'm finished here. Feral's merely relaying his message and once that's done then we have no further business here."

"I have a request." Nazo stated.

"You aren't in a position to be making bargains with the Master, Nazo." Bios reminded.

"If I am allowed forty-eight hours of reprieve from being judged by Xeralisk, I will accept double the punishment that he determines is fit." Nazo said, not a hint of fear showing in his voice.

Bios balked at Nazo. Xeralisk's punishments were harsh and many would call them unnecessarily cruel. "You're insane, you know that? And that's coming from me, so you're clearly out of your bodiless mind."

"Go see if he will accept those terms." Nazo commanded.

Tense silence pervaded the two for a moment. Bios shook his head. "My comrade, I now have a newfound respect for you. If you ever have any hare-brained suicide missions that you need done, come right to me, cause I'm sure it would be a lot of fun!" a sick smile spread over Bios's features. With that, he opened a portal and left to talk to Xeralisk.

* * *

The man stopped in front of them. He looked at them all, an almost-bored expression on his face. Kratos froze up when their eyes made contact, but the moment lasted only for an instant and the former Seraph soon relaxed.

"You are the Aurions and Sages, correct?" he asked. Everyone nodded in response. "I am Feral MoonScythe, Second King of the Unborn. I have a message from our master."

Feral paused, glancing at all of their faces, examining each one, his scrutiny seeming to give him more knowledge about them than just their appearances.

"What is it?" Lloyd finally prompted after a moment's silence.

Feral ignored him and finished his examination of the party. After a few minutes, he turned his gaze to nothing in particular. "Fate's control over the future is more fragile than Fate would like to believe. Next time, don't count on Fate and our master's plans to coincide. Leave Triet now, or not even Fate will be able to save you," He announced after what seemed like an eternity.

"That's just vague enough for us to ignore," Sylpher grumbled. "I still wish I knew what had happened just now."

"If you're an Unborn, then why did you just save us?" Raine asked.

Feral didn't change his expression at all. He didn't even bother to look at the one who addressed him. "Those were my orders. Everything is my orders. My duty has been fulfilled, and now I am to bid you all farewell." Feral turned to leave.

"Wait!" Lloyd shouted. Feral paused. "What exactly are you? Before, you were savage and demonic, there was no way you could be human. How is it that you're so calm now?"

Feral turned his head slightly to look back. "You ask me what I am, but you already know the answer. I am Unborn." With that cryptic answer, he continued to walk away.

"I didn't even see the freak and I know he's a weirdo." Sylpher said from his stretcher. "Now can someone _please _fix my back so I can move?"

* * *

Nazo waited for the inevitable conversation with Feral. He didn't need to turn to see the man walk up to him, Feral's mere presence was enough for Nazo to know he was there. He knew Feral wasn't angry. He couldn't be angry, not in the Full Moon.

"Why didn't you wait?" Feral asked.

"I grew tired of it. You were able to escape, Feral, but I am still trapped. Remember that."

"The time is not right."

"I merely saved Xeralisk a little time. Now he doesn't have to go around and break all the seals."

"That does not change your impatience."

Nazo spun around, rage in his eyes. "I'm sick and tired of that skeleton controlling my existence! I'm tired of having to hide my identity, I'm tired of having to having to play the pawn for a spirit of Death that is trying to achieve what cannot happen, and I'm tired of having to stare at you!

"You were once alive! You once could feel all of the emotions at once, both positive and negative! Now you spend all of your days hunkered in a shell of apathy, shrouded in uncaring, bathed in your lack of feeling. If you had any emotion at all, anyone would think you were wallowing in self-pity!" Nazo roared. "Don't you miss those days when you could feel? Don't you miss those days when you were whole?"

Nazo turned back around, glaring at the stone wall and crossing his arms. "I forgot, you can't feel anything. You're just a hollow shell of a man." Contempt dripped from his voice as he spoke those words. "Well, while you may be incapable of longing for those bygone days, I do. I remember what it was like to have skin." Nazo shivered as he gently rubbed his arms up and down. "I remember what it was like to be _alive_; to walk around on my own and eat and sleep and feel the wind on my face and smell the scent of the air. I miss it so much…" Nazo trailed off, his voice wavering.

He quickly gathered himself, though his voice still wobbled slightly as he spoke. "I'm tired of these blades in my arms and legs, tainting my physical body and making it a living hell while imprisoning me in that world of darkness. My only respite is manifesting myself through a medium, and that is far from enough to satisfy the yearning in my heart, to quell the need to escape the living nightmare of my own creation.

"I'm tired of it all, Feral. I don't want any of it anymore. Would it be that you could kill me, I would beg for you to do so."

Feral stood silently, listening to the man rant. When he finished, Feral closed his eyes. "Master Xeralisk has granted the reprieve. If you do not return in time, then the punishment will be triple." Feral summoned a portal and walked through, leaving the man made of dust to comfort himself in isolation.

A stifled sniffle escaped Nazo as he gently hugged his borrowed body. "But most of all, I want to see my son again. I want to hear his voice, to see his face. I don't want to see these lies and empty illusions that torment me even now." A tear melted into the dust that made Nazo's face as he tried to contain himself. He took a deep breath and straightened, shaking his head. "It's no use. No matter how much I may mourn and yearn, it will not change the past. I bear these burdens so that he might not. I must never forget that."

A groan sounded from behind him and Nazo turned to Robert, who was beginning to stir. His expression went from mournful to hateful in a heartbeat. "To feel nothing for eternity is worse than even the Evitagen." Nazo growled. "How numb this body is, when even pain cannot be felt by conventional means." Nazo turned to fully face the stirring form of Robert, venom dripping from the ferocious glare that burned from his violet eye. "The only way for me to experience the twisting, burning sensation is for the power of the attack to travel along my spiritual link to my body. Not many can actually manage to do that."

Nazo narrowed his eye at Robert, the desire to kill evident. "Our business is far from finished, my dear Robert." And with that, the eye and hair vanished, the possessed dust scattering itself across the stone floor once more.

* * *

"Our business is far from finished…"

At least, that's what Robert thought he heard as he left the mind-numbing embrace of unconsciousness. He struggled to open his eyes. Confusion painted his face as he realized he was covered in blood – fresh blood – and that there was a pile of bandages on top of him.

Then it all hit him and he bolted upright. Max's death, the fight with Nazo, the aftermath of his mystic arte, the strange man that saved him from the bodiless freak of nature; the memory of all of it returned in the blink of an eye.

He looked around frantically, searching for his bone-wearing benefactor. He already knew of Nazo's fate, though something told him that Nazo wasn't quite dead.

He turned around when he couldn't find the strange man and he could tell that he had missed a lot. Several things were missing. One, the gigantic horde of monster creatures Nazo had summoned; Two, about half of the scholars and their escorts were gone without a trace; and Three, everyone was out of breath, either sitting down or sprawled out on the ground.

He sheathed his weapon, which was also coated in blood, and started jogging to see what happened, when a thought struck him. He slowed and finally stopped, staring into space as his thoughts consumed him.

That man in the armor had seemed familiar, somehow. It was a vague feeling, but it was there nonetheless. Writing it off as merely a strange sense of déjà vu, Robert started to go back to the others. But still the thought bugged him.

As he walked, he received more than a few horrified stares at his condition. Thanks to his armor and the lack of attacks from the Minions, he was completely unharmed. But the blood soaking him from head to toe created a rather intimidating figure, especially since he bore no wounds of his own. He sat down amongst the Regeneration group, all attention on him as soon as he walked up, with the exception of Sylpher and Raine, who was performing some healing magic on Sylpher, though the boy looked fine.

"You could at least clean the blood off of yourself before you show up," Genis sighed.

Robert laughed at that. "As if I have anything that could clean it all off with! It'll take at least three washings to get the blood out of my armor so it doesn't clot up and hinder my movement. Not to mention I'll probably need to get a new trench coat."

"I assume that none of the blood is yours," Kratos said.

"Nope," Robert answered, patting his chest to indicate the armor, now riddled with several new cuts and nicks, "Nazo couldn't get through my armor, though he did manage to land a few hits." Robert gestured to Sylpher. "What happened to him?"

"He suffered a spinal injury doing our fight against those Knights that appeared just before Nazo rushed off with you quickly following. I'm trying to heal him right now," Raine answered, doing her best to repair the injury without causing more damage.

Robert winced in sympathy. "That's got to suck."

"It does," Sylpher sighed, "On top of not being able to move without a ton of pain, I missed something really cool. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with that Feral dude who came over and gave us a really vague warning."

"I see. Well, I can tell you all that Nazo's been taken care of." Robert assured.

"So you managed to kill him?" Colette asked, trying her best to ignore the stench of blood that cloaked the mercenary.

Robert fell silent as he looked at the ground. "I didn't. If I told you what happened, none of you would believe me."

"I doubt it can top a person who can radically alter their personality and mana signature on a moment's notice and is capable of easily slaughtering several thousand Minions," Thomas said, folding his arms.

"That reminds me, what happened over here? I'll tell you my story after you all fill me in."

"Fair enough"

* * *

Robert blinked. "I have a feeling that Feral is not the type of person you want to piss off," he said.

"I've got a feeling that he's the type of person you can't piss off," Sylpher responded. During their story of everything that happened since Robert ran off chasing after Nazo, Raine had finished healing him and he was now standing, making sure he could still move his body the way he could before Kojiro broke his back.

"Now, what about Nazo's death wouldn't we believe? And if you didn't kill him, then who did?" Raine asked.

Robert sighed, closing his eyes and preparing himself for the laughter that was sure to follow. "A man with jade eyes wearing armor made out of human bones did."

Everyone was silent, so Robert continued on to his disturbing discovery. "Also, I'm not entirely sure Nazo is dead. I couldn't land a single hit on the guy, since he fought like a ballet dancer with weapons on his body, and I finally got frustrated enough to use my mystic arte.

"When it was over, I assumed he was dead, since my arte blew a hole in his chest about twice the size of my head. I turned around, and was about to go and join the massacre of everyone, euphoria flowing through my body at the thought of being able to kill so many, both Minion and non-Minion, to my shame." Robert ducked his head as he said that. No one was surprised. He wasn't in the best shape –mentally - when he ran off, and judging by the amount of blood on him, his mental state hadn't improved by the time he reached Nazo.

"I heard a noise behind me and turned around only to be pinned by Nazo. Like I said, I blew a hole in his chest, and he was still alive. But the most disturbing part-" Robert shuddered, "-was that he didn't have a body. He wasn't covered by bandages, he _was _bandages.

"After that, Nazo started to do something to me. I'm not entirely sure what, since I could barely understand what he said and I was in a bit of a shock. I think it was something about 'destroying my soul'. All I know for sure is that he entered my mind and started doing something that hurt like nothing I've ever experienced. Not even getting swallowed whole by a dragon could compare to it. Before Nazo could finish doing whatever it was he was doing, the man I mentioned before showed up and sliced Nazo's head into pieces, causing the rest of the linen to collapse on top of me. The same man then knocked me out, and I woke up a few minutes ago."

Everyone was dumbstruck. Thomas was the first to speak up as he clears his throat. "Well, that beats the heck out of Feral, that's for sure."

"I'm curious as to why Bios saved Robert, though. Or why Feral came and killed all of the Minions. They're all Unborn, so that means that they're on the same side. Why did they get in each other's way?" Kratos wondered aloud.

"Wait, who's Bios? And what are the Unborn? I let this stuff lie before because it had nothing to do with me. Now, it does, so I would like an explanation," Robert demanded more than requested.

"Of course," Lloyd said, "After everything that's happened, it wouldn't be right to leave you in the dark."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Juggernaut: So, let me get this straight, you found a marathon of toddler's shows like Barney far more traumatizing and painful than- (pulls out a copy of chapter 7 ending AN)… Do I even want to know how you came up with that?**_

_**It was far more civil and humane than what he did to me! I still can't look at a "D" and not remember the horrific scenes! (makes writing rather difficult. I hope you appreciate this even more now)**_

_**Juggernaut: and… why am I friends with you again?**_

_**I ask myself that same question every hour. I'm still working on an answer. I'm a little stuck though, since I can't figure out what the square root of a cheeseburger is.**_

_**Juggernaut: (fake laughs) Wha?**_

_**Everything.(starts **_**actually**_** laughing)**_

_**(after calming down) You know, I didn't write the first half of this chapter.**_

_**Juggernaut: What, did Nazo do that?**_

_**No, the story did. I was merely the medium through which the inspirational thoughts flowed through to push the keys so that the electrical signal could be sent to the computer and be stored as a compilation of zeros and ones to form letters and symbols in a coherent manner that provides entertainment to those who see and receive the meanings placed by humanity upon the words that were formed by those letters and symbols.**_

_**Juggernaut: … uhhh, HUH?**_

_**It's one of those instances where the story basically wrote itself.**_

_**Juggernaut: and you couldn't have just said that why?**_

_**It's fun messing with you.**_

_**Review for me, and I might be able to get another update up even faster than this one!**_


	12. Chapter 12: Empty Existence

_**Well, things are going to slow down for a bit now. I'm going to focus mostly on character development for a couple of chapters. Slow parts between excitements are necessary. It might actually be smart of me to split this into two separate stories, now that I think about it, since it will be so freaking long.**_

_**Xeralisk: We all endure enough of your presence already. If you split this into two stories, then I will**__**be forced to annihilate you and scatter your remains across a barren desert so they may never find you again.**_

_**Thanks for that pleasant thought Xeralisk. Now I have something to look forward to.**_

_**Xeralisk: …I forgot. This is the guy whose worst nightmare was being forced to watch Teletubbies.**_

_**IT WASN'T JUST TELETUBBIES!**_

_**Xeralisk: Shut up and respond to anonymous reviews.**_

_**(pouts) Fine**_

_**Anonymous Reviews**_

_**Hey, what do you think of Nazo?**_

_**Xeralisk: why do you ask?**_

_**Because I can. Answer the question.**_

_**Xeralisk: Are you sure you want to order me like that?**_

_**Juggernaut: Don't bother asking. He just uses counter-questions to get on your nerves.**_

_**Xeralisk: Hm? Who in the Evitagen are you?**_

_**What the-? What are you doing here? (wow, severe déjà vu) STOP VIOLATING THE PRIVACY OF MY INNER THOUGHTS, DARN YOU!**_

_**Xeralisk: You managed to make him angry just by showing up. I like you already.**_

_**Juggernaut: Why is there a tall, talking skeleton with a really creepy scythe here? And is it a good thing if he likes me?**_

_**IT'S MY MIND, YOU FOOL! I CAN SUMMON ANY ONE OF MY CHARACTERS THAT I DESIRE! NOW GET OUT OF MY MIND BEFORE I SICK THE SUMMON SPIRIT OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION ON YOU!**_

_**Juggernaut: the wha?**_

_**Xeralisk: Me.**_

_**Juggernaut: Oh. Does it really bother you that much that I'm here?**_

_**YES!**_

_**Xeralisk: Then I won't chase him out.**_

… _**Why do my own creations hate me so? *sob***_

_**Juggernaut: What a baby.**_

_**Xeralisk (at the same time): What a drama queen.**_

_**QUEEN? (pulls out a large arsenal of explosive weaponry, including, but not limited to, an RPG, several grenades, a hellfire missile attachment for a helicopter, a Barret 50. caliber sniper rifle with incendiary rounds, a cruise missile, and a hydrogen bomb.) I AM NOT A FREAKING GIRL, YOU FILTHY, BRAIN-DEAD, MAGGOT-INFESTED, POMPOUS, CONTROL-FREAK OF A BAG OF BONES!**_

_**Juggernaut and Xeralisk: O.O**_

_**Juggernaut: I think you pissed him off.**_

_**Xeralisk: I think I'm actually a little scared. I've always wondered if he's truly the one that created me. Now, I can honestly say that he is my maker without shame.**_

_**Juggernaut: it took him pulling a ton of explosives on you for you to admit it?**_

_**Xeralsik: That's just icing on the cake. The insults were the real eye-opener.**_

_**Juggernaut: … (facepalms)**_

_**I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL! (starts firing)**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 12: Empty Existence

Robert blinked slowly at the end of their tale. "So, the people we fought today are really a bunch of dead people who aren't really dead?"

"That's not the best way of putting it," Genis said, "but it pretty much hits the nail on the head."

Suddenly, a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties walked over to them. He wore thick steel armor and, like almost every survivor, it was covered in blood and dents. On his arm was a band with a guild insignia on it. It was a picture of a wave crashing into a cliff, a large temple standing atop the cliff that was built in a similar manner as the Balacruf Mausoleum.

He turned to Robert. "Caston, since our CO fell in combat, the others voted me to be his replacement. I wanted to get your approval, since you're a higher rank than I."

Robert sighed. "I was wondering when someone would talk to me about this. It's going to be one hell of a time finding a replacement for Max." he said as he put his head in his hand.

"If you disagree with my appointment, then just speak up."

Robert waved the man's words aside. "No, no, I think you would make a fine commander, Gregory. You've got my backing one hundred percent. It's just that the old man isn't going to take the death of his protégé very well. Max was set up to take over the guild once the Guild Master kicks the bucket."

"You're still alive." Gregory pointed out.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't run a guild very well. I'm too restless, plus I have that problem with self-control. The only reason I'm this high up the ladder is because the Guild Master took me in and raised me as his own." He rubbed his eye for a moment as if he was exhausted. "Okay, go ahead and give me a report."

Gregory stiffened as he stood at attention and saluted. "Sir, sixty percent of our guild members on this mission were wiped out, the other forty percent are badly wounded, but will be able to continue the mission. The other guilds have suffered similar losses. After a council of all the commanding officers present and available-"

"Wait a second," Robert interrupted. "How long ago were you voted to be the new CO?"

"Just before the council met, sir. We were unable to find you at the time and decided to elect a representative to go to the meeting in your place. I was made that representative." Gregory answered.

Robert nodded. "Alright, continue."

"As I was saying, after a council of all commanding officers, it was decided that the best course of action would be to return to Triet and abort the mission. Many of the survivors will escort the researchers back to Sybak after a period of rest. They will receive their pay at their respective guild halls in the city. They will also be given a bonus for the escort back." Gregory finished his report.

"I see. Thank you, you are dismissed. Oversee preparations and procedures for our departure." Robert said. Then a thought struck him. "Does anyone know if Jim and Eric are alright?"

"Jim and Eric are perfectly safe. They suffered no harm from any hostiles that appeared today."

"Good. You may leave. I'll handle telling the Guild Master about Max myself."

"Yes sir." Gregory saluted once more. "May the waves never stop beating upon the shores of Balacruf."

"And may the winds that carry them never cease to blow." Robert answered. Gregory turned and marched away, leaving Robert to return his attention to the group. "Sorry about that. With Max being our commanding officer and getting KIA on us, I knew that things in my guild would get a little hectic. I'm just glad Gregory was here to clean up the mess, cause Martel knows I didn't want to."

"So what's going to happen now?" Sylvia asked.

Robert sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, after everything that happened, the people in charge must have decided that it is far too dangerous to remain here. So we're packing up and leaving, and the Imperial Research Academy is probably going to black-list these ruins because of what happened here."

Raine gasped in horror. "But then no one will be able to enter them to study. All of the knowledge that these ancient cultures could have passed on to us will be locked away forever."

Lloyd turned to look at his former professor. "Raine, do you realize how many people died today? Who's to say that the Unborn don't come back. I doubt destroying those crystals was their main goal."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Raine held out a fragment of one of the crystals.

"Raine, when did you pick that up?" Genis asked.

Raine ignored him. "I've been looking at this fragment, and I can tell that it is not an exsphere, nor does it operate like one. It appears that the mana that created it was imbued with a life force, but it isn't a lifeless being at all. It also seems to be radiating a strong flow of heat. It is possible that these crystals are the reason it has grown so hot in the desert as of late."

"But if they were the reason that it's been so hot, then how come they only started affecting it now?" Colette asked.

"When the ruins were first opened, a wave of extremely hot air came out of the room. It's possible that the room was sealed to prevent anyone from tampering with these crystals, as well as prevent the crystals from making life in the desert unbearable."

"As fascinating as this all is," Robert cut in, looking quite bored. "You really should be getting ready to go. We're going to leave in a couple hours, so I suggest you gather all of your stuff." Robert then stood and left the group to prepare to leave.

* * *

The desert air was perfect in comparison to the boiling magma caverns that were the Triet Ruins. While the air felt cool to the skin, the body knew it was still far too hot, and the desire to leave the scorching sands behind was still very present in everyone's mind.

Exhausted, the caravan of surviving mercenaries and scientists left the ruins, heading for the desert oasis to rest up and prepare for the long journey back home.

Sylvia frowned as she sniffed again. She cast a disgusted look out of the corner of her eye at Robert, who still had yet to wash out the blood that had coated him. Despite the obvious detriments to walking in blood-encrusted armor, he had chosen to keep it that way to preserve the precious supply of water that they had.

Sylvia elbowed her brother to get his attention. The two consulted in a whisper for a moment before Sylpher heaved a sigh and nodded. Sylvia gave him her impish smile before hiding it and walking over to Robert.

"Hey, Robert. Could you go over there for a bit?" she asked, pointing a small ways away from the caravan.

Robert raised his eyebrow and looked down at the young Sage. "Why?" he asked curiously. "There's nothing over there."

Sylvia looked up at Robert sweetly, smiling pleadingly. After a moment, he sighed and went over to the spot she had indicated. "Okay, now what am I looking for?" he called back, turning around just in time to see a spell circle around both Sylvia and Thomas. "Aw, man." He moaned just before a bright blue bucket appeared above his head and poured out a small waterfall upon the mercenary.

After the spell ended, Robert spluttered and shivered. His eyes were closed tightly and his hair was limply hanging in front of his eyes. Water that was dyed red was streaming down him in small rivulets, washing away the stench of blood along with the offending body fluid.

He slicked his hair out of his face to glare at Sylvia, just in time for Sylpher to finish his spell. A circle of water appeared at his feet before a torrent streaked out of the ground and smothered any rebuke he may have been ready to say. The Spread was not powerful enough to do any harm, but it had enough pressure to bring the bottom of his trench coat up and over his head to slap him in the face.

Sylvia had been holding herself back before, but now she practically doubled over in her mirth. Sylpher smiled smartly at the mercenary as he spat out the water that had made its way into him mouth. All traces of blood had completely left the man.

Robert took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. He slowly pulled his coat off of his head and shook the water out of his hair. His glare smoldered with anger as he stalked back to them and he looked very much like he wanted to strangle them both.

"And what, dare I ask, was that for?" he managed to ask through grit teeth.

"You absolutely reeked, and I figured you didn't want to walk all the way back to Triet covered in blood. Since we need to conserve water, I figured a quick power-washing with some spells would do." Sylvia explained through her laughter.

Robert clenched his fists. "And why couldn't you have said that in the first place?"

This time Sylpher spoke up. "Because the look on your face was priceless."

The idea of strangling them both in their sleep was sounding very pleasant to Robert about now. "You don't know how much I want to kill you right now, pink-hair," Robert growled.

Sylpher flinched and turned on Robert angrily. "Run that by me again, I dare you." He snarled.

Sylvia pulled her twin back. "Let it go, Sylpher. It's not worth getting into a fight with him because of your hair." She whispered.

Sylpher continued to glare, but listened to his sister and backed off. Robert made a mental note to not make fun of Sylpher's hair.

* * *

Night soon fell, banishing the harsh sunlight that baked the travelers and ushering in the chill of night that stole the warmth from their bodies. Everyone sat huddled around a fire, trying to ward off the cold with its glowing embers.

"If I may ask, what guild are you a part of?" Kratos questioned Robert, who was farthest from the fire, since his armor protected him from the cold as well.

The man paused in his meticulous cleaning of his scythe to look up at the purple clad angel. "Well, that came out of nowhere." He mumbled.

"Come on, answer the question. I would have asked you earlier myself, but you were a little miffed at the shower Sylvia and Sylpher gave you." Thomas prodded.

Robert frowned at the mention of that, but dismissed the thought and answered. "Well, I'm part of the Waves of Balacruf. It's an old guild: some even say our origins are in the Balacruf Dynasty itself."

Sylpher looked clueless. "What's a guild?" he asked.

Presea turned to her son. "A guild is an organization of people with a common occupation that works to find jobs for its members. Most mercenaries belong to a guild, since it is the easiest way to find jobs during peaceful times like these."

Thomas frowned. "Shouldn't you know that?"

Sylpher rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you mind your own business?"

"I asked you a question first. And I think knowing the extent of my friend's ignorance is my business."

"You should focus on your own stupidity instead of mine."

"Says the guy who made a very dangerous mercenary mad at him."

Sylpher turned beet-red. "Well-

"That's enough, both of you," Genis snapped, bringing them both under control. After getting the two to stop arguing (or, as they called it, engaging in friendly debate), he turned to Robert. "That soldier, Gregory, seemed to treat you with a high amount of respect. How high up the ladder are you in the chain of command of the guild?" he asked.

Robert smiled sheepishly. "Well, I don't really like to tell people because they tend to treat me differently afterwards."

"Come on, you know you want to. If you're one of the higher-ups at only twenty-seven, then that entitles you to bragging rights." Sylpher told him.

"Arrogance is never something I want to fall into," Robert said, frowning. "Arrogance is another form of over-confidence, and over-confidence nearly killed me twelve years ago." Robert sighed as he put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. "But if it means that much to you, then I guess you won't stop pestering me until you get an answer."

"If you do not wish to tell us, then we will respect that," Raine told the man. Sylpher snorted at that, but didn't say anything as her aunt gave him a reprimanding glare. Sylpher could almost _hear_ the lecture that his aunt wanted to give him right then.

Robert eyed Sylpher, laughter sparkling behind his eyes at the silent exchange between them. "Somehow, I doubt all of you will leave me alone," he said, smiling. "My rank is that of a-", Robert paused, a pained look in his eyes. "Well, since Max is gone now, I should say _the_ Guild Champion, the second highest rank in the guild."

"So that would make you the logical successor of the current Guild Master, wouldn't it?" Genis asked.

Robert nodded solemnly. "It does, but I don't want that. Sam, the Guild Master and the man who took me in, practically had to force the rank of Champion on me. I've never been one to be in a position of power, and with my… condition – I wouldn't make a very good leader anyway."

"Sometimes it is the ones that feel they are not fit to lead that are the greatest leaders in the eyes of those around them," Presea said.

Robert was silent at this.

"Can't quite think of a rebuttal for an argument like that. Indeed, it is a very excellent one," an all-too-familiar voice echoed from behind Robert. The mercenary spun around to find a man made of sand standing behind him. The man was easily identifiable as Nazo by the violet eye that stared at them.

Nazo raised his palm to calm the group down as they began to draw their weapons. "I do not come as an enemy."

"Says the man who killed my best friend," Robert growled. Without giving the Unborn time to react, Robert lashed out at the man, aiming for his head.

Nazo's body disintegrated into a pile of sand before the attack could land. Robert cast the pile a glare as he sheathed his weapon. "I knew I didn't kill the bastard."

"It's rather difficult to kill someone when their body is… indisposed." Nazo's voice rang out.

Everyone jumped at the sound of his voice and began looking everywhere to figure out where the man was. "Show yourself!" Kratos ordered.

"Would you kindly lay out some bandages for me to use as a medium so that I might be able to comply with that order?" Nazo's voice answered.

"And why should we help you?" Genis asked.

"It's rather difficult to establish an alliance with someone when you're merely a soul searching for a medium to force yourself upon and use as a body."

"Alliance?" Raine asked.

"I would love to explain in detail, but I'm sure it would be easier on you if I had a physical form." Still confused, Raine pulled out a few rolls of bandages and set them on the ground before here. "Thank you."

The bandages seemed to gain a life of their own as they began to float into the air. Slowly, they unrolled themselves and wrapped around an invisible body. Before long, they had formed the body of Nazo. He opened his eye and blinked a couple times before looking around at them all. "There we go, now I have a face for you to put my voice to."

"Or a body to cut to pieces," Robert snarled. "What the hell makes you think we are willing to trust you enough to form an alliance with you?"

Nazo turned to look at Robert, venom clear in his gaze. "You don't know how much I truly despise you, Caston." He growled in response. "I had thought you were my son until I searched your soul."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Robert demanded, confused. He kept his guard up, though, just in case it was a trick.

"You have the exact same face as my son," Nazo said, a spark of nostalgia shining in his eye. "You have the same hair, the same armor, the same scythe, the same voice, even the same damn name! You are a carbon copy of my son." Nazo's eye flashed dangerously. "But you are not my son, and because of that, I despise you more than the mere shell-of-a-man that is Feral MoonScythe."

Before Robert could answer, Nazo turned away and addressed the rest of the group, ignoring Robert completely. "Before you decide, I will allow you to ask any questions that you desire of me. I will answer them as long as they are within reason. Be quick about it, for I have a time limit."

"Very well, let's start with the reason why you want an alliance with us and what you could have to offer us." Kratos started.

Nazo turned his unwavering sight to the Seraph. "You have the ability to fight against the Unborn, and I have inside knowledge of all of the dealings of our master."

"In other words, you plan to rebel against your master," Raine translated, "and we can work against him without being forced to obey him."

Nazo nodded. "Precisely."

"Um, before we go any further, I have a question." Colette spoke up. "Why were Bios and Feral attacking you and the Minions when they showed up? Aren't they on your side?"

Nazo laughed at that. "My side is my own, no one else's. I choose for myself, and I choose whether or not I obey. Xeralisk, the leader of the Unborn, has no control over me. I work alone."

"But Kojiro said that it was impossible for any of the Unborn to disobey," Thomas pointed out, confused.

Nazo nodded, acknowledging the boy's claim. "That is true. Almost all Unborn must obey any orders from someone ranked higher than they are or from Xeralisk himself. There is only one person out of trillions that can disobey. So far, there are only two people capable of doing so: Feral MoonScythe and myself."

"Hold on," Genis said. "If Feral can act for himself, then why isn't he on your side?"

Nazo narrowed his eye at that question. "Though I did think of Feral as a partner, once upon a time, but I now see him for what he truly is. He is a coward.

"He fears the New Moon because it wrenches his memories of his time of torture in the Evitagen to the forefront of his mind. He fears himself because he knows he is nothing more than a monstrosity to everyone around him and a blight upon all of existence. Most of all, he fears being sent back to the Evitagen. That fear is what maintains his obedience, not the twisted control that Xeralisk has over members of the Unborn. He says he is waiting for the 'right moment', but I realized long ago that that moment would never come for him, that that was merely an excuse to avoid angering Xeralisk."

"I've got a good question." Robert said coldly. Nazo froze before nodding, his only acknowledgement of Robert's presence. "How can you live without a body, and how can we kill you?"

A dangerous question to answer. By answering, Nazo would show that he had complete and total trust towards the group, but it would leave him open to Robert, who still wanted Nazo's blood in exchange for his friend's.

"I have a body," Nazo began, "However, it is tainted and if I use it, then I will literally be in hell. As such, I employ a technique that separates my soul from my body. What you are seeing is nothing more than a spiritual projection of my physical form forced upon a non-living vessel." Nazo tapped his eye. "The appearance of my right eye and these few strands of my hair are the signs that I have possessed something as my vessel.

"If I so desired, I could use a corpse as my vessel, though that would cause many to believe that I employ a necromantic spell to accomplish this. It is not necromantic, merely an advanced form of meditation." Nazo smirked to himself. "An extremely advanced form of meditation." He added softly, almost as if he were making some kind of joke that only he understood.

Nazo glanced down at the fire, the dishes used in their meal waiting to be washed next to it. A look of longing appeared on what was visible of his face as he placed a hand on where his stomach would be. "It is a respite from the torment my body suffers, but it is a Hell all on its own. My existence through this technique I employ is empty. I can hear and see, but that is the extent of my senses. I smell nothing, neither the sweet scent of flowers in the spring, nor the putrid stench of rotting flesh. I taste nothing, I can't even eat! But worst of all, I feel nothing. Not the wind caressing my face, not the earth, standing solidly beneath my feet, not a fire burning my skin, or the cool touch of water washing my wounds. Even pain cannot be felt, unless extraordinary measures are taken…" he trailed, scrutinizing the bandages of his hand.

"And what are those measures?" Sylpher asked, curious. Everyone had become engrossed by the man's explanation. Even Robert had become docile, feelings of pity for the man before him welling up within him.

"The attack must be able to travel along my spiritual link to my body and inflict damage there. Very few are capable of generating an attack capable of such a thing, and even fewer are aware of the ability."

Nazo looked up again. "And you wanted to know how to kill me." Nazo laughed. It was a hollow laugh, an empty laugh, the kind of laugh that sends chills down the backs of those who listen to it. "If I knew how I could die, I wouldn't be standing before you today."

Nazo then looked around. Curiousity colored his voice as he asked, "Why is it that none of the other mercenaries or scholars have noticed my presence? Surely someone would have seen me by now and raised an alarm."

"You seem to go off on tangents randomly." Sylvia noted. Nazo shrugged.

"Call it a character flaw," he told her. "but, my curious observation aside, are you satisfied that you can trust me? Do we have an alliance? Please answer soon, because I need to go pretend that I am in extreme pain and agony when I return to the Unborn's headquarters. Xeralisk doesn't know I don't have a body and it is rather difficult to make it look like I do, so I need time to prepare. I have already used twenty-four hours of my reprieve."

When no one spoke up, Raine cleared her throat. "I think we will need some time to decide amongst ourselves." She told him.

Nazo thought for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, I will return in twenty-three hours to have your answer. I apologize but I will need to keep these bandages to use as my vessel. It's difficult to pose as a leper when you are made entirely out of sand." With that, Nazo opened a portal and left the group to ponder his proposed alliance.

* * *

He sighed as he reached Triet. It was bothersome to have to waste time by crossing the entire desert, but if he wasn't properly exhausted it would be difficult to pass himself off as a lone researcher looking for an escort.

He forced himself to remain calm as the luscious scent of human flesh and blood reached his nostrils. He swallowed the drool that threatened to escape his mouth and forged on towards the inn.

The few that were out that late at night didn't even spare him a second glance. After all, he was in the middle of a desert, and he was wearing clothes made by nomads that once roamed the desert. His apparel wasn't uncommon in the area.

He quickly paid for a room and went to it, flopping down on the bed without bothering to remove his garbs. He never removed his garbs. To do so would reveal the monstrosity that lay beneath them.

He forced himself to think over his plan again. He had altered it when he received word of Nazo's direct violation of orders with his visit to the sealing chamber. He was going to trick some researchers and mercenaries into taking him back there. His Ancient Script was a little rusty, but he could still read it well enough that the fools that had copied down the symbols would demand that he go with them back to the ruins to translate everything that was written there. He would do just that, as a final act of kindness towards his future meal.

But then… Well, he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do. He would just wing it from there, he supposed.

William FlameSword turned onto his side as he mulled over it all in his head. Slowly, the halfling drifted to sleep, the scent of sweet blood wafting all around him, mixing with the smoke that stung his nostrils, the taste of flesh fresh on his lips as he listened to the screams of humans all around him. The dream had started before he was even asleep. It was a familiar dream, for he had had the dream many times. It was a dream of his life before he showed humans how great of a monster he could be, before he was a slave to his own grandfather, before he had the blood of millions on his hands.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**(the landscape is decimated. There is no sign of Xeralisk or Juggernaut. I am standing in Ground Zero, panting heavily with discarded weaponry all around me.)**_

_**I feel better. All that bloodlust and pent up stress has been relieved. That's been building up for a while now.**_

_**Now that I'm calm, I have made a realization.**_

_**This is going to be a difficult story to pull off. **_

_**I need to develop all of the main characters, make sure they stay in character, and make sure they all stay in the story. I'm going to have quite a few main characters, with the entire original cast as well as their children and a random person thrown in here or there.**_

_**I'm finally realizing the enormity of the task that I have undertaken, and it scares me. I need your support now more than ever, because the lazy part of my brain (which is a very large part of my brain) is telling me that it's not worth it. PROVE THAT PART OF MY BRAIN WRONG WITH YOUR REVIEWS!**_

_**Xeralisk: What are you ranting about now?**_

_**O.O …B-but-…y- you-… I-… How-?**_

_**Juggernaut: We hid in that bunker over there.**_

… _**I thought I removed that.**_

_**Juggernaut: (pulls out clipboard) It was on your to-do list.**_

_**By the way, are you going to become a consistent appearance? If so, then you're really going to annoy me.**_

_**Xeralisk: I hope he does. It's nice to see you annoyed for a change.**_

_**I'll get used to it. I just need to know now so it doesn't surprise me as much in the future.**_

_**One last thing. I will be working at a Boy Scout camp over the summer. If I get a laptop for my birthday, I will be able to update. If not, then I will be out of commission for the whole summer. Warning you now so you don't think I vanished off the face of the earth.**_

_**Juggernaut: By the way, are there any perks to Xeralisk liking me?**_

_**Xeralisk: You will die last.**_

_**Juggernaut: … I can live with that.**_

**_I will be devoid of a computer for the next two and a half months, and I will be unable to update. I apologize for the long wait that will occur before I will be able to continue, but I assure you I will keep writing over the summer and have the next couple chapters planned out for you when I get back._**

_**Review. Please and Thank you.**_


	13. Chapter 13: Markings

_**Back I am, here with a new chapter for you all! I enjoyed my summer vacation. I hope you all did as well.**_

_**William: You had fun ignoring this story!**_

_**Shut up! I was busy.**_

_**William: You didn't write at all during the summer! You swore you would and yet you just sat on your lazy bum and didn't do anything!**_

_**That is not true! I was working, not sitting on my butt! Besides, I have it all planned out in my head! **_

_**William: Lies! Filthy Lies!**_

_**What are you talking about? You know I've been thinking about what's going to happen next all summer!**_

_**William: More lies! You were thinking about things much farther along in the story. You've had Writer's Block on this chapter the entire time! How else do you explain why it took you so long to update when you got back on the fourth of August?**_

_**Um-… Uh-… You see-… I-… Uh-… Screw this!**_

_**Anonymous Reviews!**_

… _**none (sighs) and after all that time for people to review.**_

_**Apparently I've put William on edge. I'm not sure if he intends to eat me or not.**_

_**William: (glares at me)**_

… _**So I guess I better start the story. Sorry about the long break! Forgive my slow updating.**_

_**Warning: This chapter has fluff, filler, a slight amount of plot development, some riddles, and a few more questions than answers. One of the riddles was one I made up. It's the only one where I actually have people guessing at an answer.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 13: Markings

The blazing sun above burned in the sky. It glared down upon the weary caravan of scholars and mercenaries, mercilessly burning away at their stamina, making every step seem like a thousand and every thousand feel like an eternity. The abnormal heat of the desert had subsided somewhat, offering little to the exhausted travelers.

Amongst those who walked beneath the unforgiving sky orb, one man sat upon the back of a wagon, sullenly looking at the ground. Dark lines covered his face in an intricate pattern. Anyone with knowledge of the human body would have recognized the path they took as the very places where one's blood vessels ran. A bandage ran across his face, covering a cut that had been given to him two days ago.

All who looked at him did so with pity. The man was going to die a very terrible death soon. The dark lines covering his skin were the signs of Withering's progression. Soon, they would reach his heart. He couldn't wait for that moment to come. He was so tired of waiting with his heart full of dread.

He heard a cry of frustration, followed by laughter at the owner's anger. He looked up to see the children of the Heroes of Regeneration among them talking with each other, the auburn-haired one scratching his head while the other two smiled tauntingly.

"Okay, run it by me again," Thomas said as he tried to figure the riddle out.

Sylvia just sighed. "If you still haven't figured it out after hearing it five times, then I doubt telling it to you one more time is going to help."

"You never know."

"… Fine. Who am I that when you say my name I am no longer there?" Sylvia recited.

Thomas fell silent as he tried to wrack his brains for an answer. Sylpher laughed again at his friend's obvious distress. "You never were very good at solving riddles."

Thomas lightly punched his friend in the shoulder. "Be silent, I'm trying to think!" A moment of silence passed between the three friends. Then Thomas snapped his fingers, his face lighting up as he the answer dawned on him. "Silence!"

Sylvia smiled for her friend's triumph. "Correct!"

"And it only took you four hours," Sylpher laughed, earning another punch on the shoulder, this one a little harder than before.

"Whatever. It's my turn now, anyway." Thomas sighed as he tried to think of a riddle that he hadn't told the twins yet.

"Your turn for what?"

The three turned to see Robert walking over to them, a small pouch in his hand. Periodically, he reached into the pouch and pulled out a piece of jerky meat, which he proceeded to toss into his mouth and chew with relish.

Sylvia tilted her head to the side. "Shouldn't you be with the other adults discussing whether or not to accept Nazo's offer?" she asked. Thomas and her brother silently agreed with her question.

Robert laughed as he fell into step next to them. "There are two things about that. One: I'm not a part of your group. I'll split ways with you once we reach Triet and my contract expires. No offence against you all, but I have business of my own to attend to." He shrugged, chomping down on another piece of his jerky. "And second: Even if my opinion did hold weight in the decision, my thoughts are already clear." He held the bag over to the three teens. "Bear Jerky?" He offered, holding out the pouch. "It's quite good."

After a moment's consideration, Sylpher reached into the bag and grabbed a piece the dried meat, followed quickly by Thomas. Sylvia declined with a shake of her head.

After allowing the two boys to take the meat from the pouch, he asked again, "So, it's your turn for what now?"

Thomas jolted, reminded of the mercenary's ignored question. "Oh, well, we've been telling each other riddles and trying to figure them out to help pass the time. It's my turn to tell a riddle." He told him, chewing on the dried meat. "Mm, this is good."

"Yeah, thanks for letting us have some." Sylpher agreed.

Robert waved their thanks away as he tied the bag shut and attached it to his pack. "It's no big deal. Mind if I join you? Sounds like a good way to pass the time."

"Go ahead. One more brain couldn't hurt our chances." Sylvia told him.

"Oh, I know! What am I, that when you get me I am black, when you use me I am red, and when you are done with me I am white?" Thomas asked.

"Coal," Robert chimed in a heartbeat, causing the other three to look at him in surprise. "When you obtain it, it is black because that's its natural color; while you use it, it is burning so it is glowing red from the heat; and when you are done it is ash and is therefore white. I've heard that one before." He explained, seeing the stares of shock he was receiving.

"Oh, we forgot to explain some things to him," Sylvia realized.

"Yeah, we did." Sylpher agreed. "Normally, we check to see if anyone has heard the riddle before, and if you have, then you're not allowed to answer, but you can help give hints."

"And whoever answers the riddle gets to say the next riddle." Thomas added.

Robert smiled balefully, "Whoops. Sorry. You can say another one if you want, Thomas." He offered.

"No, it's okay. I'm pretty much out of riddles anyway."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, if you say so," Robert consented, scratching his chin. He thought for a moment before smiling. "I've got one that I doubt you've heard before."

"Well, give us the riddle," Sylpher told him.

"Okay, just give me a second to remember the wording. Let's see here:

"When I am behind you, you wish I would be with you again.  
"When I am in front of you, you wait for me impatiently.  
"When I am with you, I am often ignored by you.  
"Who am I?"

Everyone walked in silence for a time, thinking on the words of the riddle.

"A shadow?" Sylvia guessed. She was fairly certain it was wrong and wasn't surprised when Robert shook his head.

"A bodyguard," Sylpher suggested. Everyone turned to give him a questioning look. "If you're a paranoid person, then that would make sense."

"But wouldn't someone be comforted when they had a bodyguard behind them?" Thomas asked, shooting down the male twin's answer. "Didn't he say that you miss it when it is behind you?"

Sylpher frowned. "I don't hear you offering any ideas," he accused.

Sylvia cut in before Thomas could respond, eager to stop the oncoming "debate" before it could begin. "You know he isn't that good at riddles. Besides, he was just pointing something out."

Sylpher opened his mouth to protest, but Sylvia stopped him with a glare. "It's in the past, put it behind you," she ordered.

He opened his mouth to try to retort again, when his eyes widened in realization. "It works…" he mumbled, smiling slightly.

"What?" Thomas asked, confused by his friends sudden change in demeanor.

Without answering, Sylpher turned to Robert. "Time," he declared.

Robert smiled. "Correct."

Time. The man smiled grimly, returning his lackluster gaze back to the sand beneath him. Time was the only thing standing between him and his fate. He fervently wished that it would hurry up and move aside.

* * *

Raine frowned as she poured over her research notes, her plate of food lying before her almost untouched. Genis looked up from his nearly untouched meal (for different reasons. Raine somehow managed to be the cook) and sighed as he looked at his sister. "Are you still trying to figure out that language, Raine?" he asked.

Raine barely glanced at her brother as she answered. "If I could just find some kind of hint, I know I would be able to crack it."

Suddenly, a cry of agony filled the air. Everyone was immediately up and running towards the source. By the time they found it, the screams had fallen silent and they found a group of people surrounding a shriveled corpse.

"Poor guy. He had a daughter waiting for him back in Meltokio." One person said.

"Yeah, but I don't envy him. He must've been dreading the time he would die. It must have been terrifying: knowing that you were going to die soon but not know when Death would sink his claws into you." Someone else spoke.

"I don't think he was dreading it at all. Whenever I looked into his eyes, I felt like he was already dead. Ever since he had been cut by that Nazo freak he was a walking corpse." Another person piped up.

Robert walked away from the spectacle, the rest of the crowd soon dispersing as well as they carefully loaded the body into a wagon. He felt a sharp bite of pain in his leg. Cringing, he gently reached down and loosened his greaves, pulling them away to look at the unmistakable markings beneath.

"Hey," a voice called out behind him. Robert jumped slightly before slapping the armor back on and retightening it. He stood back up and turned around to see Genis looking at him curiously. "You okay?" he asked.

Robert nodded. "I'm fine. I just had an itch that needed to be scratched is all." He said, offering a reassuring smile.

Genis looked at him a moment, before shrugging. "Alright. You want to eat with us again tonight? I wouldn't if I were you, though, since Raine was the cook for tonight."

Robert felt a bead of sweat drop from his forehead when he heard that. "Didn't I hear you tell me one time about her attempt to make sour cake?"

Genis grimaced before nodding. "I feel sorry for the guy that ended up trying it. Poor guy probably got a phobia of cakes from it."

Robert laughed slightly, but stopped as he saw Genis's dead serious look. "I think I'll pass." Robert said.

"A wise choice," Genis turned and left the mercenary.

Robert turned back around before letting his face fall. A look of calm acceptance mingled with no small dosage of sorrow came upon his face as he let out a deep sigh.

"It seems I brought up some painful memories while sifting through your mind."

In a heartbeat, the blade of the Clockwork Scythe was at Nazo's throat. Nazo didn't flinch and merely gazed at the mercenary through his unblinking violet eye. "Shut up, you bodiless freak!" Robert breathed, trying to keep himself from cutting the man to ribbons, knowing that it would do no good.

Nazo chuckled. "You already accepted your fate, I see. Perhaps you truly do not want to live?"

The question hung in the air as Robert glared daggers at Nazo. Finally, the man lowered his weapon, folding it and returning it to its holster. "Because they may have decided to accept, I will hold myself back," he said, his voice low. "But know that I will not forgive you. Even upon my death, I will still hunt you down. I will find a way to kill you, and then I will bring you to an end."

Robert did an about face before stalking off. Nazo shook his head. "You still know nothing. I'm looking forward to the day 'Nazo' ceases to exist. I'm even looking forward to the day that I am no more as well. A Fragment such as I can never truly live as a mortal can. All we can do is yearn for the day where we become whole once more."

Sighing, the soul moved towards the true purpose of his visit. He came upon them all as they ate. His eye twitched at the sight of the luxury he could never afford. He then noticed that the female half-elf was busy studying one of her journals, completely ignoring her food. Curious as to what she could be reading that would cause her to ignore her meal, he slipped behind her and began to read over her shoulder.

"Is there something about Ancient Script that interests you?" he asked. Raine jumped at how close his voice was before turning around and scrambling away. Nazo ignored the glares from most of the group and inspected the forgotten meal. His eye twitched slightly at the sight of what he thought was meant to be food from distance. "Perhaps she wasn't eating it because it wasn't edible…" he murmured to himself.

"Oi! No-Head! Are you here to listen to us or not?" Thomas yelled, jerking Nazo's attention from the "food". "We're trying to give you our answer."

"I apologize," Nazo said, throwing the plate and its contents from his mind. "I have come to receive your answer."

"We kinda figured that." Sylpher yawned.

Raine stepped forward. "After careful debate and consideration, we have decided that we won't form an alliance with you."

"It is true that we don't know much about our enemy, and that you can supply knowledge about them. However, given your past actions and the fact that we know very little about you as well, we figured that it wouldn't be smart to form an alliance with you." Genis added.

"You're past actions warrant a need for caution as well. From what we have seen of you so far, you are fickle and change demeanor and purposes at a moment's notice. That makes you far more dangerous as an ally than as an opponent," Kratos said.

Nazo looked at them all. "I can see that you all have thought very hard about this." He said. "I will not argue against your decision, as it is one made with logic."

"You make it sound like we would never dream of using logic," Sylvia chuckled.

"You forget that I've peered into the deepest parts of all of your minds. I probably know more about who you all are than you do." Nazo sighed and folded his arms. "I had hoped you would accept. But the choice is yours. My offer will remain valid should you ever consider it a necessity to ally with me." Nazo turned to leave, but halted in mid-step. He turned around, a sad look in his eyes. "I feel a need to warn you of certain things."

"If you think it can help us, go ahead," Lloyd told him.

"First, do not grow attached to the being known as Robert Caston. He is only good for being an eyesore and is something that needs to be eradicated."

"How can you say such things about someone just because they remind you of their son?" Colette gasped.

Nazo's unblinking stare fixed itself upon the Chosen. "My son has nothing to do with what Caston will bring you. I thought it wise to warn you beforehand." He growled.

"Is there anything else you wanted to say to us?" Genis asked, eager to avoid too much conflict with the Unborn.

Nazo sighed, closing his eye. "There is a being coming to awaken the Death-Demon that slumbers behind the sealed wall. I do not know whether he will be able to accomplish it or not, but he is not someone who you can stand against."

"Who is he?" Kratos prodded.

Nazo was silent for a moment. "His name is William FlameSword. I cannot describe him very well, as his apparel is very common in the desert. I know not if you will meet him, but if you do, avoid a battle at all costs. He is beyond your abilities to combat."

"Why? What could make him that dangerous?" Lloyd asked.

A deep sigh escaped Nazo's mouth. "It is not my place to tell you who or what he is. His past is a story for him to tell others, not for me to divulge. However, I can explain this. The strongest members of the Unborn, those among us that are hailed as Kings and Queens, all share one common factor. They are all beings that shouldn't exist.

"For example: you have already met King Feral several times. He has been the strongest amongst all Unborn, until recently. He has three forms, each more terrifying than the last, and each with its own set of advantages and disadvantages. You have seen two of these forms: Full Moon and New Moon. I won't go into detail, but in the New Moon form, he is can be defeated by the Second Lord. His third form is nearly unstoppable. You wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance against the New Moon as you all are now.

"He lacks a heartbeat and has no memory of who he truly is. Like I have said before, he is a mere shell of a man. But this is what grants him such power. Many of the Unborn claim to be Unborn, but they aren't true Unborn. A true Unborn is a being that shouldn't exist, but does exist. Only true Unborn can receive the greatest of benefits from our pact with our master."

"And this William is one of those 'true Unborn', isn't he?" Raine asked, deducing where the man was going with this.

Nazo nodded. "He is our Fourth King. I do not pretend to know everything about him, nor am I foolish enough to claim that I understand him, but I do know that he is not to be trifled with. He has been responsible for the toppling of an empire, and has wiped a city clean off the face of the planet in seconds. He is not someone you should fight against."

"If this is what you're like when you don't have an alliance with us, I wonder what you're like when you do," Sylpher said, smiling broadly at the look of irritation that Nazo cast towards him.

"While I do not agree with the way my son phrased that, I too am curious as to why you are helping us despite knowing that we are not your allies," Presea agreed.

"… I do this because I feel that you are the only hope of stopping his plans," Nazo said softly, his words almost lost to the desert wind. "Now, it is time that I leave you all. May Psyche, the Goddess of Life and Creation, safeguard you on your journey. Farewell."

With that Nazo turned and left, vanishing into the darkness of the night.

"I don't understand him. One moment he is declaring us to be his mortal enemies and tries to kill us, and the next he is trying to help us." Thomas said.

"Whatever the case, we must be on the lookout for this William person. I do not fancy an encounter with anyone that has the ability to wipe a city out of existence," Kratos admonished.

"That would be easier if he had supplied us with a little more information than 'he's really strong. Don't go near him, he'll bite your head off.' Any identifiable features would have helped," Genis complained.

"We'll just have to assume that anyone that seems suspicious could be the Unborn. Plus, the Unborn have that bizarre mana signature, so we should be able to identify him easily." Thomas said.

"Whenever it comes to matters like this, things are rarely that easy, Thomas." Lloyd warned his son. The young angel shrugged, turning to talk to the Sage twins as everyone allowed their attention to be diverted.

* * *

Robert let out a roar of frustration as he carved the last of the scorpion monsters into two. He kicked the carcass away from him as he sighed, completely at a loss as to how to respond to his actions. Every time he asked himself why he was out here killing things without discretion, he found himself thinking that it was because of his encounter with that bastard.

He didn't know what it was about Nazo, but something about the man made him angrier than anything else. He knew the fact that Nazo was responsible for the death of his childhood friend wasn't the sole reason that he hated the man so.

"Something bothering you, sir?" a voice asked behind him. Robert turned to see Gregory standing there, looking at his fellow guild member with some worry in his gaze.

"Yeah, though I wish I knew what it was." Robert responded. He sighed again as he plopped himself down. He looked up at the night sky, letting his gaze wander over the stars that decorated it.

Gregory walked over to his superior and sat down next to him. "Does it have something to do with Max dying?" he asked. "I know what it's like to lose someone close to me."

Robert shook his head. "No, it's nothing that simple." Silence stretched between the two. Gregory shifted uncomfortably while Robert continued to stare up at the sky. "I think it has something to do with some old memories that were dredged up recently."

Gregory silently watched as Robert silently unbuckled one of his gauntlets and removed it, revealing a golden ring upon his ring finger. "I didn't know you were married, sir," Gregory said, surprised.

"You can cut the formalities, Greg. You're not here as a guildsman, but as a friend. Otherwise you wouldn't have approached."

"Sorry. It's become a habit as of late."

"I noticed," Robert said dryly. "Anyway, I should say that I was married, though it was a long time ago." The berserker sadly gazed upon the wedding band, tears shining in his eyes. He gently pulled the item off his fingers and held it up so that it glinted in the moonlight.

"How come I've never met her?" Gregory prodded after a moment of silence.

Robert recoiled slightly, clutching the small ring tightly. "She died."

Gregory flinched, realizing he had asked the wrong question. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Robert shook his head, waving his apology away. "You couldn't have known. And I don't feel comfortable discussing it. It's something that I've never been able to tell anyone. I'm sorry. It's something that I've been trying to suppress for a long time."

"It's not good to close yourself off like that."

"I know. She would tell me the same thing. I can't wait to see her again." A tear slid down his face. The man sniffed, quickly wiping the tear away.

What Robert had said sent alarm bells ringing in Gregory's head. "You're not going to commit suicide on me now, are you?" Gregory asked.

Robert laughed. "No, nothing like that. If I did, the first thing she would do when we met in the afterlife would be to slap me upside the head and chew me out until she was blue in the face."

"Not to mention what Max would do."

The two laughed.

After calming down, Robert's face grew serious once more. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Greg, but I need to ask you to tell Sam about Max's death."

Gregory looked at the man beside him with shock. "But, you said that-"

"I know," Robert interrupted. "But I don't think I'll get the chance." Wordlessly, Robert undid the straps holding his greaves on and pulled them off, followed by his boots.

Gregory gasped at the sight of the blackened, swollen veins that wound their way up the man's leg. "Those are…" he couldn't finish. It was impossible to mistake those symptoms.

"It's slowly accelerating," Robert said as he put his armor back on. "I can't give myself more than a week."

"Why didn't you tell anyone sooner? We might be able to find a way to-"

Robert silenced him with a raise of his hand. "I doubt anyone would know of a way to cure this. Instead of giving myself hope, I might as well accept my fate. I have chosen to leave it be. Please respect that. Besides," Robert smiled genuinely, "I got to meet the people who saved my life, my heroes. I think they even consider me a friend now."

Gregory sighed deeply. "It's a sad thing when a man as young as you has become too world-weary to try to save his own life."

Robert didn't respond. After a moment, Gregory stood up and offered his companion a hand. "It's getting late. We should head back."

Robert declined the help up. "I think I'll head back to town a little sooner. My friend is dropping by soon."

Gregory shrugged. "Suit yourself." He said before turning around and heading towards the light of the fires. Robert sat in silence for a few moments, left to wander in his own thoughts.

Silently, a large, hawk-like creature, easily as large as a man, alighted upon a nearby cactus. It gazed silently at the man as he stood and walked over to the bird. "I'm guessing you hear all of that, huh?"

The beast's intelligent eyes looked at the man, as if to say "heard what?"

"I saw your shadow flying amongst the stars up there. You can't hide that much from me, old friend."

The hawk gave a small cry of sorrow, its eyes begging for an answer as to why.

"Don't worry about it too much. Let's just make the most of what time I have left." He said, reaching up to stroke the beast's snow-white and blood-red plumage.

It gave one more shriek before unfolding its wings and giving a mighty flap to get airborne. It reached down to gently pick up the man in its talons before it began to soar away from the camp.

* * *

_Smoke filled the air as fire spawned from nothingness. He could see them all cringe in fear as he brought flames up to entrap the entire town. He could see the children, staring at him questioningly, silently begging for him to explain that it was all a big misunderstanding. He could feel the gaze of the adults, boring accusingly into his head. _

_He held back laughter at the children's imploring and fought back a sneer at the adults' blaming. It was a misunderstanding, only they were the ones who misunderstood. And he had done nothing to any of them until the day _she_ burned. His mouth twisted into a snarl at the thought of that event, renewing his resolve for what he would soon do._

"_For thousands of years, I did nothing to harm you. I even helped you, and still you attacked me!" he growled, his voice rising above the sounds of the raging inferno._

"_You lie, demon filth!" one brave man shouted back. William reacted instantly, raising a sword that was entirely white with holes puncturing the material up to the man's neck. Blood slowly oozed from the holes, and bits of metal shone in the firelight._

'They are the source of everything that is wrong…'

"_Do I?" he asked. "Can you name a single event in which I struck the first blow? Can you recall a single moment in time where a human had been slain by my hands before you destroyed my tree?"_

_All of them were silent, which only served to fuel the half-human's rage. "You cannot!" he roared, the cloak that covered his body bursting into flames. "You ignorantly believed me to be a monster, hunting me down like a wild animal! You took the one person I ever truly cared for and forced her to betray me! You burned my very source of life to nothing but ashes, which was soon to be followed by the very reason I could go on after so many years of hatred and pain! You call me 'demon' and 'monster', when you fail to realize that you have been the true monsters the entire time!"_

'All of my pain is their doing…'

_The cloak around the fire mage had finally turned to ash, revealing the monster that was beneath. Many of the townspeople reacted instantly, moving to attack William, but flames flew forth from the earth, pushing them back._

"_Well, now I will show you what you have desired to see from the very beginning! I will show you the monster that lies beneath my skin! You've been asking for a demon for my entire life! Now I will show what a true demon really is!"_

'I will return all of my pain to them, one-thousand fold…'

"_Your cities will burn to ash; your armies will be consumed, either by my fire or by my hunger; nothing will be left to mark the earth of the blight that is known as humanity!" He threw his head to the sky and let out a demonic howl, his very shape melting as pure rage and hatred flowed through his being. "All of you shall learn what the Son of Pyre is truly capable of!" his warped, monstrous voice screeched as his body began to twist and morph. The pain was excruciating, but he was filled with so much hate, so much anger and rage that the pain felt like a leaf brushing his skin in comparison._

"_It's a beast from Hell!" someone shouted. The citizens began to scream and flee from the monster that had come to destroy them all._

_William's eyes widened at the man's words. "Hell…?" he asked._

'You fools… You never realized that _you_ are Hell…'

_William grew even angrier at the words. As if he could possibly be worse than they! At least he had a reason for his actions! At least he had been willing to forgive! At least he knew whether or not they deserved to die!_

"_Burn!" he screeched, the sound piercing the very heavens as blood began to cover the ground, only to dry as hungry fires spread out over everything._

XXXXXXX

William woke from the dream, calm and undisturbed. The memory of that day had haunted him for millennia, so he was used to being awoken by it.

He didn't know why it did, though. Was he regretful of his choice? Did he revel in the memory of the carnage he wreaked? Could it be that, deep down, he hated what he was with every fiber of his being? These questions plagued the battle mage as he rose from his bed, leaving to take a walk by the oasis. He knew sleep wouldn't come again that night.

His thoughts wandered as he did, failing to pay attention to where his feet carried him. His desert cloak shuffled around his feet as he walked slowly towards the destination he didn't have.

His thoughts turned to his current mission. The scholars were probably going to arrive soon. He wondered if any would be fool enough to return to the place where so many of them were slaughtered. Even he knew that it would be truly foolhardy to do such a thing. Stopping, William looked down to find himself at the city graveyard, gazing down at one of the graves.

A pang of jealousy swept through him. He didn't regret his choice, not in the slightest. Nor did he revel in his bloodshed. And self-loathing was far too human of a thing for him.

What he wanted… What he longed for… What the dream was reminding him of… was something that should have happened before he was even born.

"I wonder what happens," he began as he turned around and started to walk away, "when you die in Hell." The graves around him were silent. If the man had expected to recieve an answer, he was sorely dissappointed. "If only this demon could find someone to help him find out after they manage to best him in combat."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**I am a steadfast believer in the philosophy that the most dangerous foe is one who is actually looking forward to being killed in combat.**_

_**William: So in other words, I hold back all the time because I want to die.**_

… _**Revision: I am a steadfast believer in the philosophy that the most dangerous foe is one who is looking forward to being defeated at their best.**_

_**A short glimpse on William's past. He's been through Hell and back several times. I tend to do that to my villains. At least, to all of my greatest villains. I've done it to several of my heroes as well. **_

_**I will say this, I hate major/main villains that are purely there to be the bad guy. You truly feel a connection when you know the villain's past. I enjoy it when you get a look into that past, and so I thought I would take this opportunity to give one of my favorite OCs a little more depth.**_

_**William: when do you plan to reveal everything that happened?**_

_**A long time from now. So for now, mull that over in your head and review for me! They make me happy, even though I don't deserve them for making you all wait so long for a chapter that wasn't quite up to par with the length of most of my other chapters.**_

_**William: just shut up and end the chapter and start on the next one.**_

_**Fine! Sorry if it sucks, tell me if it does (or doesn't) and anything that I could improve or tweak, and ask me any questions you desire. LET ME HEAR THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE!**_

_**William: Don't worry, I'll be sure he gets the next chapter our much faster.**_

_**What will you do? You're a figment of my imagination that is brought here upon my request.**_

_**William: I will give you a migraine whenever you start to read too much and don't write at all.**_

… _**Touché. **_


	14. Chapter 14: The Thread Diviner

_**College life is something that I really need to adjust to.**_

_**Screw the OC coming in here, I'm feeling too angry about an author who had a few good stories I was reading deciding to quit. I don't blame him since he apparently was feeling suicidal. But it still makes me mad. They were good stories. **_

_**Anyway, I'll argue with the voices in my head later.**_

_**Sylpher: like when you're trying to sleep?**_

_**SHUT UP AND GO AWAY!**_

_**Anyway, I'll respond to anonymous reviews now.**_

_**Sceptile8308: While you have an account, I can't respond normally because you turned off pm-ing. Jerk. And I can't text you my response because you lost your phone over the summer. So troublesome. Anyway, you really can't blame me for ignoring a story over the summer because you haven't updated your fic in well over a year! And I'm glad you like my character development and how I go through the story without rushing. This chapter will focus a little more on developing the characters of Sylpher, Sylvia, and Thomas. And last but not least, my clones aren't stalking you, we are just everywhere.**_

_**Well, nothing to do now but start the chapter.**_

_**Sylvia: You really are forcing yourself to do this, aren't you?**_

_**Let me do my job and write. Screw you all.**_

_**Thomas: Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.**_

_**I only sleep on one side, the top. I find it difficult to sleep on the bottom.**_

_**Nazo: … I know I'm going to regret this, but… You do know what that expression means, right?**_

_**Yes. It's supposed to say that the person has had an off day, where nothing has gone right, and references that the origin may have been at the start of the day. Namely, when the person woke up.**_

_**Now, shut up and let me write or I'll instigate my mental wrath upon you all. AND EVEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU!**_

_**This is a chapter full of foreshadowing. Some of it would be more epic if I didn't already reveal certain things.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 14: The Thread Diviner

Many of the weary scholars sighed in relief as the gates of Triet came into view. It had been a total of five days since they had left the ruins behind and three since Robert had left. The group sighed in relief as well. The caravan moved slowly, and though they could have made the journey in only three days if they went alone, they stayed with the group to maintain safety in numbers.

"Finally, we're almost there!" Thomas rejoiced.

"We'll be able to sleep in a real bed tonight!" Sylpher cheered.

"And I'll be able to replace my sage," Sylvia added, looking sadly at the withered branch of sage that used to be in her hair. "Plus we'll be able to take baths." She then sniffed slightly before holding her nose and gesturing towards her two friends. "I think you two are the top priority for that."

"Hey!" the two shouted as if offended, though they were grinning broadly.

"Settle down," Raine told the three children sternly, though there was a faint smile on her face. "We'll be able to relax for a couple of days while we re-supply. I'm sure you three can find something to occupy yourselves with in the meantime."

"Yeah, and that should give us a chance to relax from you three." Lloyd laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "You guys ran out of riddles two days ago and we've been the ones suffering for it."

Colette looked at her husband. "Lloyd, you shouldn't be too hard on them. After all, you weren't the most easily occupied person when you were their age."

"Well, yeah, but," Lloyd faltered.

Genis smiled. "I remember how you would be extremely excited at the beginning of one of the temples, but by the end you'd be complaining about how boring everything was," he teased his childhood friend.

"I was-…" Lloyd said, searching for an explanation.

"Indeed, he always was a very excitable boy, even as a toddler. Anna would always be worn thin chasing him around," Kratos reminisced, smiling faintly as Noishe howled in agreement beside him.

Lloyd hung his head in defeat. "Why is everyone ganging up on me?" he asked piteously. Thomas laughed at the adults' antics, while Sylpher and Sylvia did their best to hide their chuckles to avoid becoming the focus of the teasing.

"So our first destination would be the inn, correct?" Presea asked.

"Indeed. We'll rest for today and resupply tomorrow, then we'll head out the day after." Raine said, making the plan for the group.

* * *

The peaceful sounds of snoring filled the room of the inn. Sylpher lay on his bed, sleeping more soundly than a rock as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Suddenly, the young boy was torn from the quiet embrace of sleep to find the floor rushing up to meet his face.

"OW!" He tenderly rubbed his nose as he stood up to glare at a grinning Thomas.

"Good, you're awake!"

Sylpher just kept glaring at him. "Was that entirely necessary?"

"Well," Thomas began, rolling his eyes, "Unless you wanted me to use Sylvia's method, then yes."

"… I'll take the fall over spiders any morning, thank you."

"I figured as much." Thomas laughed as he tossed his friend's clothes at him. "Hurry up and get dressed so we can see the fortune teller.

A few moments later, the three teens were walking through the streets of the desert town.

"Why are we going to see the fortune-teller again? Everybody knows that the old hag is just a hoax," Sylpher complained loudly for the umpteenth time.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I heard that she got a new apprentice. Supposedly, the kid's fortunes are actually legitimate," Sylvia growled. "I find it hard to believe you're my twin when you're so impatient!"

"How do we know the kid's any good?" her twin demanded.

Thomas sighed as he prepared to respond. "Obviously because it wasn't just one-" He cut off as he saw a distinctly familiar flash of purple and blue in the corner of his eye. He turned to look at the source and his suspicions were quickly confirmed.

"Although we can guess the rest of the sentence, it still is annoying for you to cut off in the middle like that." Sylvia sighed. Thomas failed to respond, earning a curious glance from both twins. "What are you looking at that's so interesting?" she asked, following his line of sight, only for her jaw to drop open, Sylpher soon following suit.

A nobleman with royal purple hair dressed in a purple and blue outfit walked by them. Wyrd halted before turning and smiling coyly at the three. "It's rather rude to stare, you know." He said innocently.

"You…" Sylvia gasped.

"It has been awhile, hasn't it? Is everything going alright with your parents?" Wyrd asked.

Thomas's smile faded slightly as he looked at the nobleman. "Seeing you talking to us so nonchalantly, one would find it hard to believe that you vanished into thin air right in front of us." He observed.

"Indeed, one might find it hard to believe such an event ever happened." Wyrd responded in a heartbeat, not put off in the slightest by the subtle demand for an explanation. "And as for the fortune-telling boy, he is indeed very accurate, though it's difficult for him to control his powers. I was just on my way to see him now, actually. Care to join me?"

"Two hundred Gald says he'd follow us even if we said no." Sylpher bet.

"You always bet two hundred Gald, no matter what it is about." Sylvia said, shaking her head.

"It's my standard bet."

"Ignore them," Thomas said, shrugging off the two fourth-elves. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Wyrd asked. "I've come to see the fortune-teller's apprentice, of course."

"Well, whatever, it's not like we're that far away anyway," Sylpher said. Indeed, they weren't very far away at all. The canopy of the fortune teller's tent was barely visible in the distance.

During the short distance to their destination, Wyrd chattered with them, asking them about how they had been getting along since he had "parted ways" with them. As they approached the tent, a small girl with brown hair ran up to Wyrd, grabbing onto his leg and holding it tightly.

The teens were surprised by this, but Wyrd merely smiled gently and knelt down to gently ruffle the girl's hair. "Hello there, Jenny. How have you been?" Wyrd asked the little girl.

"Mr. Wyrd, you finally came to visit!" she squeled excitedly. She giggled happily as the strange man ruffled her hair. "Brother will be happy to know you're here, too!"

"Well, I'm sure he will be. Is he with someone right now?"

The girl nodded. "Uh-huh. The funny-smelling lady is talking with him. She told me to wait outside."

"I see. In that case, I'll just have to wait for a moment." He turned to the forgotten trio. "Allow me to introduce Jenny. She and her brother are orphans that I convinced the fortune teller to take under her wing a while ago."

Jenny turned to them and smiled broadly. "Hello!" she said, smiling cutely.

Sylvia quickly crouched down and playfully pinched her cheek. "You are just so cute! I'm Sylvia, it's nice to meet you, Jenny."

Jenny seemed confused at by the older girl's appearance. "You're hair makes you look like an old lady, but your face isn't all wrinkly, like a young lady's. Which are you, an old lady or a young lady?"

Sylvia laughed at her question. "What if I told you that I'm both?" she asked. Jenny's mouth dropped open in shock. Sylvia glanced anxiously from side to side before leaning close and adding in a loud whisper, "But don't tell anyone. It's a secret." Jenny quickly nodded, closing her mouth.

Sylpher walked over, rolling his eyes at his sister. "I'm Sylpher, this girl's brother. Don't listen to her silly stories, she's fourteen, same age as me."

Jenny looked up at Sylpher, curiosity filling her eyes. "Do you wear that thing on your head because you're embarrassed about your pink hair?" she asked innocently. "How come you have pink hair but Sylvie has an old lady's hair? You two are weird."

Sylpher's eyebrow twitched and Sylvia just chuckled at the little girl's bluntness. Thomas laughed quietly to himself at his friend's predicament. "I'm Thomas," he said, giving the little girl a smile.

The girl looked up at Thomas. With eyes round with wonder, she reached up and grabbed at the scarf around his neck futilely. "So pretty," she said, her eyes sparkling with amazement at the article of clothing. Thomas's smile broadened at the girl's innocent and unashamed adoration of his scarf. He quickly knelt down so she could reach it more easily, holding it out to her. She reverently took the end of the scarf, examining it with adoring eyes.

"Please excuse her," Wyrd apologized, "Sapphire blue is her favorite color, and your scarf is made of a very fine material as well. It must have cost a lot."

"No, it's fine," Thomas said, waving away the man's apologies and smiling brightly. "It was made by a dear friend and was given to me as a gift, so I don't mind if people admire it."

"You must be very close to have been given something so precious."

"Not as close as Thomas would like to be," Sylpher coughed, looking away nonchalantly as Thomas shot him a glare.

Suddenly, the rug that was used as the door to the tent was brushed aside as the elderly matron that served as the fortune teller came out. She jumped slightly at the sight of Wyrd before putting on a wide grin. "Mr. Wyrd, how good it is to see you!" she said, walking forward with her arm out to shake his hand. Wyrd quickly accepted the handshake and the old woman began to vigorously shake his hand, both hands clasping it tightly. "I must say, I am truly glad that you convinced me to take those two siblings in. They have helped my business immensely, especially that boy! Though I must admit I was skeptical at first."

"It was more for their benefit than for your own, though I am glad that I could be of help. Might I speak with Lucifer for a moment?"

"Of course, of course. He's inside. I was just giving him some advice on the readings of the future." The woman quickly ushered Wyrd inside before stepping out to give them both some privacy. Then her eyes fell upon the teens and Jenny. "Oh, are you here to get your fortunes read? I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wait a little bit longer. I'm sorry about the inconvenience this must bring you."

"It's fine. We're not in a big hurry or anything." Thomas told her. "If it's alright to ask, how long have you taken care of this girl and her brother?"

"Oh, it's been about three months or so since Wyrd convinced me to take the boy and his sister under my wing. I was rather reluctant to do so at first, since that child is so strange," she told them.

"Which one is strange?" Sylvia asked from the ground, braiding Jenny's hair while the girl sat patiently in her lap.

"Lucifer, Jenny's brother." The fortune-teller clarified. "You see, he's only about six or seven years old, but his manner of speech is extremely odd for someone that young. And he knows personal things about people that he has just met. It's very eerie. But his eyes are definitely the oddest thing about him."

"So, he's more than just your average fortune-teller's apprentice?" Sylpher asked.

"You'll all be able to see for yourselves soon enough," Wyrd announced as he left the tent. Jenny smiled and ran back over to him, latching on to his leg again. "He's waiting for you, but please see him one at a time, otherwise he might become a little overloaded."

"It's alright, Wyrd." A child's voice called out, remarkably solemn for a voice that sounded so young. "Let them all come in at the same time. Their threads are intertwined closely enough that I won't be overwhelmed by the influx."

Wyrd did not seem surprised by this at all. "Very well," he answered. "Go on in, you three." He gestured to the tent. Casting questioning glances at the noble, the three teens walked into the fortune-teller's tent.

The inside reeked of burning incense and was dimly lit by several candles surrounding a small table in the center. Atop the table rested a crystal ball on a stand, and behind that stood a small boy no older than six or seven at the most. He wore the classic garb of one of the desert children of Triet, though a great big eye on his chest matched the symbol of the fortune-teller outside. A small turban hid most of his sandy blonde hair, but a large clump of it escaped the mess of cloth and drooped down into his enrapturing brown eyes. The look in his eyes didn't match the boy's face at all. It showed a depth of understanding that was beyond any other child his age, and a spring of wisdom deeper than his youth should have allowed flowed in the weary pupils. The child could only be the boy called Lucifer.

"Welcome, travellers. You have come to see your future, no doubt. But the future is ever-changing. The future flows into the present, where our decisions and actions mold it into the past. Fate has spread his threads into this constant flow of time, allowing them to intertwine and interact. He has allowed me to reach into the depths and read the threads that are found there. Do you desire to see the thread that Fate has selected for you? I warn you now: I cannot make predictions that are absolute, as nothing of the future is set in stone. Nor can I see all, because for every one thing that is revealed, twelve are hidden," the boy said, his solemn voice mesmerizing to listen to.

"That was a whole lot of nonsense. Were we supposed to actually understand any of that?" Sylpher asked.

Lucifer dipped his head in a nod. "I apologize if I confused you, Sylpher. Many are befuddled by my speech mannerisms and are astounded by the size of my vocabulary. When one is cursed as I, they can only adapt, or be consumed by the madness that enshrouds them."

"How old are you?" Sylvia asked.

"I am six. And my sister is four, if you were wondering, Syvlia. But you have not come to learn of me, you have come to learn of yourselves. One reading is four hundred Gald each."

"Two observations," Thomas spoke up. "One: the price has gone up by a lot. Two: we haven't told you our names yet.

"The price has risen because the divinations I provide are not merely of the future but also show you aspects of the past and yourself that you could not see before, as well as my fortunes are far more accurate than the cheap imitations of my 'master'. And I know your names because they are written upon your Threads of Fate, Thomas."

"Okay," Thomas said skeptically, rummaging in his pocket. He pulled out a pouch and pulled a few coins from it. He tossed them on the table and sat down, the twins following his example. "Let's see how good you really are."

The boy ignored the money and instead focused on the crystal ball. "Before we delve into the uncertainty of the future, we must gaze upon the foundation that is the past. Gaze into the crystal and see what it shows you. As you see, listen to my voice and ponder these words in your heart."

Suddenly, the crystal ball began to glow. All three teens looked at it, unable to take their eyes off of it. They felt as if they were being pulled in by a mysterious force.

* * *

_The three teens blinked in surprise, gazing around to find themselves in an expanse of whiteness. Quietly, the voice of Lucifer drifted to them across the endless blankness_

"Before we glance upon the constantly changing future, we must build up a foundation for us to stand upon with the past. Let us start with Thomas Aurion. Open your eyes to the sights around you and open your ears to the words that speak to you."

_A young boy with auburn hair and blue eyes ran past them. The village of Iselia surrounded them, though the people were much younger. Lloyd and Colette, both looking younger by a few years as well, smiled as the young Thomas rushed up to them._

"Your family is comprised of two of the heroes that saved the world. You are proud of them, but at the same time you hate them for it."

_The image changed to one of a large city. The young Thomas was being greeted by many well-dressed people. But behind the people, images of their thoughts could be seen. Desires for power, desires for influence, and desires to use the boy for their own gain: all of these things were reflected in their intent for the boy before them._

_And as that image faded, it grew into one of Thomas surrounded by other children of Iselia, two groups of boys were arguing over whose team Thomas would be on for soccer. Again, images of their thoughts were visible to the spectators. Some of the boys saw Thomas as Lloyd's son, and were eager to become friends with the child of their hero. Others saw him as the child of two incredible people, so he must be incredible by extension, and very few could have an incredible friend._

"You hate it because everyone around you seems to see you as the child of heroes, and not as you because of it. You seek to know why it is that you must be judged by your heritage, not by your own merits."

_Then their surrounding became utter blackness before an image of the current Thomas appeared, smiling happily at an image of Kratos. _

"Upon meeting your grandfather, you were both happy and nervous. You were happy, because you met someone you had dreamed of meeting for a long time. But you were afraid because it might be another person who judged you by your parents. You were relieved when he compared you to them, but did so in a way that showed he was purely doing so out of observation, not intent to label you. But…"

_Thomas's image frowned and turned to stalk away from the image of Kratos._

"Upon hearing his past, you became scared of him for a different reason. His actions appalled you, and you were horrified by how apathetic about it he seemed. You feared him because you couldn't understand how he could flee from all of it on the comet Derris-Kharlan. But you also were cautious because he was brought by someone that was not to be trusted, and he had no memory of how he came to return."

_The landscape returned to one of blank white._

"My advice to you is that you not be so quick to judge the hearts of others. Cynicism can often be misplaced, though it is also often right. You are quick to distrust, but upon earning your trust, it is hard to break. Cling to the trust that you have in others, but know that it is also dangerous to trust someone so completely.

"Now we shall examine the past of Sylpher Sage. Watch to realize your actions, listen to learn of yourself."

_A younger version of Sylpher appeared before them. Around the boy, a school house formed. Out of the window, the landscape of Ozette could be seen. As they watched, the teacher of the school called out the young Sylpher to answer a question. Sylpher stood and uncertainly responded, only to be told that he was wrong. Sylpher hung his head slightly as he sat back down._

"You are the son of Genis Sage, famed for being a genius. As such, you are often expected to compete with your father, but he is on an entirely different level than you. Because of this, you are often met with disappointment from your teachers. You desire to be measured by your own achievements, and not those of your father."

_The scene changed to Sylpher in the center of a ring of children, having a fist fight with another boy from school. Sylpher was badly beaten up, but he kept going at his opponent, who was faring better than Sylpher, though only a little. Then, Sylpher tried to cast a spell, but it came out weaker than it should have been, causing little harm to his opponent._

"In addition, your hair color has been the target of ridicule and laughter by your peers. As a result, you have often gotten into fights because of it. And you have found that your ability to use magic is limited to using a weapon as a conduit. You have disappointed many by this as well, though it is something beyond your control."

_The bully punched Sylpher once again, laughing at the boy. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning narrowly missed hitting him. Nearby, a young Sylvia smirked, holding a kendama. The group of boys fled, leaving Sylpher to nurse his wounds along with his slightly wounded pride._

"Your twin sister inherited more of your father's magic ability and genius, though it is still far from matching the man himself. You have always envied her because of this. But despite that…"

_A scene of Sylpher working to master his axe appeared next. As he sat down to rest, Sylvia came to give him a drink. Sylpher smiled and the two started talking. Well, talking like a brother and sister do. It quickly derailed into a friendly scuffle. An image of Genis came out and scolded them, but he quickly joined in the fun while Presea stood of to the side, smiling and shaking her head at her family._

"Your ties to your family are deeper than anything you have known. You cannot live without any member, and you are able to weather everything the world throws at you through the strength given to you by your family. You pretend to hate your hair, but in your heart you are proud of it because it is a sign of your heritage."

_The real Sylpher flinched and glanced at Thomas out of the corner of his eye. Thomas was looking at him with a wide grin and a look that said "I knew it". Sylpher sighed mentally. He wouldn't live that one down._

"My advice to you is to not hide that pride. Using the strength given to you by others is not a problem, but if you depend on it too much then you will become weak on your own. Acknowledging your pride over what many consider a negative thing could be a start to learning to stand on your own feet, and to use the support of others to climb even higher."

_Again the surroundings faded to white._

"Now we shall move on to Sylvia."

_A young Sylvia was sitting at a desk in a classroom with other students. The teacher called out on her and she stood, answered the question, and sat down. The teacher nodded and continued the lesson. None of the other students seemed surprised that she answered correctly, and some even commented on how it was so like the daughter of Genis Sage. Sylvia's gaze became a little sad as she heard those words, but she resolutely continued to listen. _

"You have often been compared to your father, and you hate it because you feel others are trying to force you to be just like him. You do not like the feeling of others forcing you to conform to some predetermined mold."

_As the class ended, the young Sylvia gathered her things, but she remained seated. The teacher noticed this, and raised an eyebrow, since she was normally one of the first people to leave. The teacher noticed a small, mischievous smile on her face and he looked alarmed and turned to face the door just as a bucket of water fell on the student who opened the door, soon followed by another bucket full of flour. Some children laughed and all eyes turned to Sylvia, who was covering her mouth to hold down her own laughter._

"Because you feel no one notices you for yourself, you play many practical joked on those around you in an effort to separate yourself from your father. You envy Sylpher because of how most don't view him in the same light as they do you. You wish that they would stop comparing you to your parents. Even still, you have a strong bond with your family, just like your twin.

"My advice to you is to stop worrying about being compared to your father. Just because someone thinks that you are like either of your parents, it does not meant that they cannot see you as a separate person. Cherish every moment with those around you, because you never know when Fate will be cruel enough to take them from you."

_The landscape faded back to unending white. _

"Now that we have established a foundation, we can proceed into the future. "

_The blank landscape around them flickered for a moment. _

"That's… impossible. How can so many anomalies occur within single thread? What are these abnormalities that plague your futures?"

_Suddenly, images began to flash across everything around them. Images of people, places, and scenes formed and deteriorated faster than the eye could blink. _

"No! I cannot control the outflow of possibilities! It is too perilous to continue in the astral plane. We are going to have to return. Brace yourselves!"

* * *

All three of them awoke with a jolt, their hearts pounding in their ears and a cold sweat starting to form on their skin. The sudden return to reality was an… interesting experience, to say the least.

They were sitting atop some of the overstuffed pillows that decorated the room. It was clear to see that they had been unconscious for the duration of the divinations.

"It brings me relief to see that you have awoken." Lucifer said, leaning heavily on the table before him, sweat pouring down his face.

"Are you alright? Sylvia asked.

Lucifer waved her concern aside. "Worry about yourselves. I was merely reading the threads, not experiencing the typhoon of possibilities that ensued," he told them. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. "I have never seen Threads of Fate that act as yours do. You see, the past consists of a single thread while the future is made of many independent strings that can branch from that thread. These numerous strings are possible outcomes of the future. Some strings are stronger than others, as they are more likely to occur. As the present approaches and occurs, many of the strings are broken until only a select few are formed into the thread that shows what one has experienced and learned.

"However, there are anomalies in the flow of time. Occasionally, there are two threads that can belong to a single person, or perhaps two people's lives are so intertwined that their Threads of Fate are nearly impossible to distinguish between. It is not uncommon for threads such as these to appear in time's flow.

"But your threads are beyond anything I've seen so far. They loop and intertwine with threads that do not exist, they interact with threads that should have ended, but have somehow continued, and several of the threads are incomplete, as if the owners are only a portion of what they should be. I can make neither heads nor tails of much of what will occur, except for a few things.

"Many crises will hound you from this point on, often occurring with no respite from the previous one and even in the middle of another. This is certain. Along the way, you will have close relationships with others that will share a fate almost identical to yours. This is certain. All of the crises and trials that you will experience will culminate into one final event that will affect the existence of many and of much, if you should make it that far. This is certain. You will survive this great cataclysm of events that is dawning upon the world. This is uncertain."

The three teens were silent as they looked between each other. Sylpher shrugged to the other two and Thomas sighed before turning to face the young fortune-teller. "We thank you for telling us these things. We will be sure to heed your advice," he said, giving a slight bow.

"Fate decides your path, but even Fate can be overturned in rare occasions. But to defy Fate and alter an event, you must surrender something of equal value in exchange for what was gained. Consider what you are willing to achieve, and what you are willing to surrender in the process," Lucifer said, returning the bow.

As one, the three turned to leave.

"Wait!" Lucifer called out. They turned to see the boy shuffling a deck of cards that he had taken from a table behind him. "While bringing you to the astral plane is too dangerous, I can at least show you what all of the troubles you will soon face will lead up to." He held out the deck, spreading it out so all of the cards were visible. "Please take one of the cards."

Sylvia hesitated, but stretched out her hand and pulled out one. Lucifer snatched it from her hand almost as soon as she took it and looked at it. His face quickly paled before he returned the card to the deck and furiously shuffled it. He repeated the gesture of before. "A different one of you, this time."

Sylpher rolled his eyes at the child's behavior, but complied and picked out a card without even looking. Again, Lucifer snatched it from the chooser's hands and looked at it. Again he returned the card and started shuffling anxiously, his hands almost dropping several cards as they shook.

Sylvia couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Is something wrong?" she asked tentatively.

"I cannot accept what the tarot cards are telling me about your threads," the boy breathed, his quiet voice shaking slightly. Again he held out the cards. "Thomas, please choose a card. I can only pray that Fate is playing a cruel trick here."

Thomas was almost frightened. This strange child seemed terrified of whatever he was seeing. After the weird divination method that they saw earlier, Thomas found it hard to doubt what the child said, so his actions worried Thomas. He tentatively reached out and plucked a single card from the deck. Unlike the previous two times, Lucifer didn't take the card before the chooser could see it.

"Please look at it and describe what you see. I am too afraid to look at it myself," Lucifer told him. The boy swallowed nervously as Thomas turned the card to face himself. The twins pressed in close to see what the image upon the card was.

Thomas opened his mouth slowly in confusion as he looked at the card and described what was drawn, just as Lucifer asked. "There's a skeleton holding a reaping scythe. He is wearing a black robe that is billowing about him and he is pointing with one hand off to the side of the card and his mouth is partially open, as if he were laughing at or talking to someone."

Lucifer's face fell. "It is as I feared," he said, his solemn voice becoming even more serious. "That, as I'm sure you can guess, is the tarot card of Death. I'm sure you can guess what it means."

Death? Thomas only became more confused. Before he got the chance, Sylpher voiced the question that was on the minds of the three teens. "What exactly is pulling out this card supposed to mean?"

Lucifer shook his head. "I don't know," he said sadly, "I don't know."

Suddenly, Thomas noticed that one of the corners of the card was slightly splayed. Carefully, he picked at it and succeeded in separating a second card stuck to the back. The three teens looked at it curiously, wondering what it could mean. Lucifer's eyes widened. He shakily reached out. "Let me see that card," he said weakly.

Thomas handed the card over and Lucifer looked at it. Carefully, he placed the card on the table. Upon the card was painted a woman with a cold gaze and pure white hair. She wore a purple mage's robe and many golden items were splayed on a table in front of her. In one hand, she held a rod of some kind. "Was this card stuck upside down or right-side up to that card?" Lucifer asked.

"Right-side up," Sylpher answered.

Lucifer slumped back, falling into a small chair behind him that they had not noticed before. "What you see is The Magician. It represents creation and knowledge. In the reverse, or upside-down, position, it can represent a failure to start or cowardice, among many other things. When it is in the correct, or right-side up, position, as it was when you peeled it off of the Death card, then it can represent a start of things or an increase of knowledge, among other things as well. I do not know what it means, but my instinct is telling me that it should be interpreted as the start of something."

"And what does that mean?" Sylvia asked.

Lucifer put his head in his head and rested his elbows on the table. Such a look of worry and fear and confusion was unbefitting on the face of one so young. "I wish I could figure that out. All I can do is speculate."

After a moment, Lucifer looked up from his dejection. "I have nothing left to offer you. You may leave. I thank you for your business, and I offer my prayers of protection upon your journeys. You need those far more than anyone before you."

"Thanks," Sylvia said, giving a shaky smile. The three left the tent and began to return to the inn, only to be stopped by Wyrd outside the tent. "How was he?" Wyrd asked.

"I'm still trying to figure out whether to consider the kid so incredible that I need to figure out what made him like that or think of him as just plain creepy and move on," Sylpher answered, glancing back at the tent as the elderly fortune-teller slipped inside.

"Yeah, I don't understand what could make a little kid like him become more foreboding than an angry dragon looking at you hungrily while drooling slightly. I had to keep reminding myself that this was only a child," Thomas agreed.

"Is that boy even human?" Sylvia asked. "His mana signature was human, but after everything that happened, I just don't know."

"Brother is brother!" Jenny chirped from beside them. They all looked down to see Jenny pouting slightly. "Brother is not creepy! He's the bestest big brother in the whole world! Brother isn't anybody but Brother!" she insisted, folding her arms and pouting profusely.

Sylvia grinned broadly at the little girl. "That's exactly right!" she told her, bending over and pinching her cheek slightly. "Your brother is who he is. You're so smart to be able to remember that when all of us grown-ups forgot it," she praised.

Jenny smiled at the attention and soaked up the praise like a sponge.

"Personally, I think her opinion is a little biased, but, she is right," Sylpher sighed.

"Lucifer is very fortunate to have a sister such as you," Wyrd told Jenny, reaching down and ruffling her hair. He then turned to the trio before him. "Lucifer has received the ability to read the Threads of Fate, making him what is known as a Thread Diviner. There is a single family with this ability, and they were thought to have died out long ago. Even when they were a large clan, Thread Diviners were a rarity among them. It is both a blessing and a curse.

"You see, Lucifer can delve into the flow of time and find the threads that Fate has laid out to show the people's lives. Because of this, he can easily connect with others and learns a person's past through their own eyes just by looking at them. And he can show others their most likely future if they should desire and help them realize how it could be changed. But there is a con for every pro.

"Thread Diviners cannot gaze into their own future, for their own thread is hidden from them. Also, it exhausts them and can become very overwhelming for them in large crowds, because they can never fully control their powers and will gaze into the pasts of many of the passerby. Because their control can improve only through practice, it greatly affects children with the ability. They are seen to be frail because they often faint in large groups and will sometimes go into a trance because the depth of detail they receive is so great. Also, the memories are hard to distinguish from their own. Thus, by the age of four, it is almost as if they have lived dozens or even hundreds of lives, depending on how many people they came into contact with. If they can survive to this age, and still manage to keep themselves, they will have become abnormally mature, and many find it hard to believe that they are only children."

The trio was silent. "That's what he meant when he said that someone that is cursed like him can only adapt or die," Thomas realized.

"We seem to keep meeting people that have had some pretty harsh childhoods," Sylpher observed. "First, there's Robert Caston, who was being trained as a guard dog for the Desians and is a gentle person who goes blood-crazy in combat, and now we've met a six-year-old kid who can't control his ability to see other people's pasts and is more world conscious than someone ten times his age. Anyone else find that kind of weird?"

"Maybe it's Fate," Sylvia suggested, half-joking.

"Guys, does it really matter?" Thomas asked. "Let's just head back to the inn. I'm kind of tired after what happened during that divination."

"Good idea," Sylvia said. After bidding farewell to Wyrd and Jenny, they left. Sylpher couldn't help but look back at the tent. Something in his gut told him to keep an eye on that boy.

* * *

"H-Hold up," the man begged, panting as he tried to keep up with Robert. Robert merely glanced behind him. The man had pitch-black hair and dull brown eyes. He wore a sleeveless black tunic that was tucked into a pair of black pants. Padded fighter's gloves covered his hands. "Are you sure that the target is this way?" he huffed out.

Robert sighed, not slowing his pace. "Yes, Liam. I would've thought you had learned to trust me by now."

A woman sprinted past Robert, stopping suddenly and forcing Robert to stop. She leaned in close to the man and glared at him fiercely with a fist raised to his face, though the intended menacing effect was lost due to the significant difference in height. "It's not that we don't trust ya, so much as we are still human, and we don't have an insane amount of stamina like ya do, DragonHide" she growled.

Robert rolled his eyes. "I've told you before, Amarildia, I've been fighting since I was about three years old. I'm not superhuman or anything, just extremely well conditioned. And I have protection against the heat from my armor. Besides, if we move much slower, he'll get away."

Amarildia narrowed her eyes and stayed there for a moment longer before sullenly moving out of the way. "It would be so much easier if ya had let me break his leg when I had the chance. Then the coward wouldn'ta had the chance to run."

"I've explained it before, you can't do that," Robert sighed. Amarildia would be considered a beauty by many. Her raven black hair was tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her way as she fought. She wore a gray sports bra with a part of short shorts that hugged her body tightly to allow freedom of movement. She wore fighter's gloves with a layer of steel replacing the padding that usually went on the top of the knuckles and the back of the hand. Despite her provocative dress that could be considered almost scandalous, especially considering how well-endowed she was, she was far from trying to seduce anyone. If any man had the courage to talk to her in such a manner, her steel-covered fist would quickly find its way into their face.

Amarildia was silent, but her gaze smoldered with unexpressed anger. Robert frowned at Amarildia's flaring temper. She was hotheaded and rushed into things without thinking, often letting her anger dictate her actions. She was a complete contrast of Liam, who was very calm and collected, as well as so cautious that it was on the borderline of being paranoid. For the past couple of days, he had worked together with the interesting pair of greenhorn mercenaries of his guild that was trying to earn more prestige in the guild. Robert had accepted no form of payment for his working with them, helping the two to complete a few jobs so they could learn a few things from him.

"I told you, this job was given to us by the police. The man we're after is an important part of a chain of drug cartels that have been muscling their way into the area, and he can't be properly interrogated if we rough him up too much. As a result, we aren't authorized to give him any significant injuries and a broken leg or two certainly falls under the category of 'significant injury'," Robert told her sternly.

"Um, if you don't mind my interruption," Liam started, "Aren't we letting the man escape?"

Robert let out a growl of frustration. "I have to admit, the little bastard is very agile. Even if we managed to catch up with him, both of you would probably be too exhausted to do anything, and this _is_ more or less your mission."

"If ya knew that already, then why are ya making us run like this?" Amarildia yelled.

"Am, calm down. I'm sure Robert has a reason for this," Liam soothed, causing Amarildia to calm down, mostly.

"I do," Robert assured. "I don't just like to make you run in the desert heat, Amarildia. I just don't want to ask my friend to come out in a busy city street like this. The target keeps using very crowded streets, and my friend doesn't like people. He's got to stop somewhere to rest soon, and he can't do that in an area with so many people. Now, let's get going."

With Amarildia still grumbling, they set off again. Robert made sure to glance up occasionally, catching sight of one of his friend's feathers floating in front of a particular path, showing the way. Sure enough, the trail of feathers led them to a back alley.

A small man was sitting behind a trash can there, breathing heavily as he greedily gulped down lungful after lungful of air. "I think I finally lost them," he panted to himself.

"Think again, bastard!" Amarildia snarled, cracking her knuckles and sneering snidely at the look of sheer terror on the man's face as he jumped up at the sound of her voice. "Time to pay ya back for making us run all this way."

The man screamed and turned to run down the alleyway. He knocked over various objects as he ran past them in an effort to slow his pursuers.

"Wait up, ya drug prick!" Amarildia screeched as she chased after him, Robert and Liam hot on her heels.

The man burst out onto a mostly deserted street and began to flee furiously down it. Suddenly, a loud screech filled the air and he looked up to see an enormous red and white hawk descend upon him. He let out another scream of terror as the beast forced him to the ground, landing on top of him and holding one of its razor sharp talons to his throat. He gazed fearfully into the animal's eyes and he knew that it was telling him that if he moved he would die.

Suddenly, Amarildia walked around the bird, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Can't run any further, ya little cockroach," she said, cracking her knuckles. The man nearly wet himself in fear.

Robert then walked up and stroked the strange bird on the head. "Good job, Rolshe," he crooned.

Liam gently pulled at the drug cartel man beneath the monstrous bird. Rolshe hopped off of him with a flap of her wings, allowing Liam to pick him up. Liam then quickly attached a short chain to the man's ankles, impeding his movement. "Now you can't run off on us," Liam said, satisfied.

Amarildia grinned viciously at him, the look clearly daring the man to try, and assuring that if he did, she wouldn't hesitate to bash his skull in.

"That was harder than it should have been," Robert sighed. He looked around and noticed that they were near that fortune-teller that had been the talk of the town. He felt his curiosity pick at him. "You guys mind taking him back yourselves?" Robert asked.

Amarildia smiled sweetly. "Sure, go ahead. We can take it from here," she said. Robert raised an eyebrow at her sudden kind appearance. He shifted his gaze to Liam, who sighed.

"I'll be sure not to let Amarildia too close to him. After all, we do want him to be in one piece when we turn him over," he sighed.

Amarildia looked at the man, as if she was shocked. "C'mon, Liam, ya know me better than that! I would make sure he was still in one piece. After all, he can't feel pain properly if he's missing any limbs."

"I was referring to his skeleton remaining intact."

Robert smiled as he shook his head at the two. It was so much like they were a couple, but when he asked, the only response Robert got was a sound kick to the chest from Amarildia that he was fairly sure was meant for his face. "Well, I'll let you two kids handle it then," he told them, turning towards the tent.

"You do remember that I'm actually older than you, right?" Liam asked.

Robert snorted. "Like a whole three months matters," he answered. With that final exchange, Robert left the two and walked towards the tent, Rolshe hopping along the ground after him, earning many curious glances from passerby.

"My, another stressful visitor after such a short time?" a strange man wearing a blue and purple suit made of fine material said as he approached the tent. "I'm sorry, but if you're seeking the apprentice of Miss Fortuna, the fortune-teller, he just left with his sister to take a small break. A previous fortune sapped him of much of his strength, and he needs to rest a bit before he meets with anyone else."

"And you are…?" Robert asked, not sure what to think of this man that was clearly an aristocrat of some kind.

"My identity is not important. Let's just say that I am someone who is deeply entwined with the Threads of Fate," The man said, a knowing smile on his face.

Robert shifted uncomfortably. That kind of answer only made the man more suspicious. "Do you know when he will be back?" he asked.

"I do not. But if it is urgent that you see him, you may want to search near the restaurant at the end of the market street. That is one of their favorite places to eat."

Robert nodded. "Thanks." He turned and started to walk off, making a mental note to search for warrants about that man. He seemed too suspicious to be an ordinary man. He supposed he could be one of those Unborn people, but the chances of that were small. From what he had seen of them, they were quicker to fight than do anything else. Of course, his view may have been a little skewed from what he had seen of them as well.

"You won't find any warrants for me. And I wouldn't seek that boy out, if I were you," the strange man called out, causing Robert to freeze in his place. Turning to look behind him, he saw that the way the man looked at him had changed drastically. The man's eyes held a taunting gleam and his knowing smile only grew wider. "Your Thread of Fate holds many secrets that I'm sure you do not wish to know. Are you sure you're willing to give up what you've tried so hard to convince yourself of just to know your future? Besides, if you appear before that boy now, you'll only bring him more confusion than he already has."

Robert tensed as the atmosphere did, but the strange man was already in front of him, literally looking down on him! This man was much shorter than Robert before. Robert glanced down at the man's feet and was astounded to see him floating in the air. What was going on?

"That boy is the carrier of a line that even I had thought was long dead. I will not allow you to bring further trouble to him. You will not go to meet him today. The curse of Thread Diviners is already a heavy burden for a six-year-old, but it is an even greater burden in these times. The Threads of Fate speak of a time of great trouble in the near future, and it will be a harsh time for many." A look of determination crossed the man's face. "I will protect that boy. I have already allowed too much to happen to him when I allowed his parents to die."

Robert tried to back away a bit, but the man just floated after him, not allowing the distance between them to change in the slightest. Robert cleared his throat, trying to calm his frantically beating heart. This was strange beyond words. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you are talking about, but is it really so bad for me to meet the kid?" he asked in a calm voice, hoping that the man would back off soon.

The man just glared at him. "You haven't listened to a word I've said! But, if you truly desire to know what your Thread of Fate does, I would be happy to tell you. But first, I have some questions for you."

Rolshe let out a cry of anger and pecked at the man harassing Robert. But the bird's beak just passed harmlessly through him, eliciting a squawk of confusion from it.

The man continued without even acknowledging the attempt to harm him. "Do you really think you can help? Are you sure you are who you think you are? Will you fancy yourself an Apostle of Creation, or will you fall to be an Angel of Destruction? Your life may not end today, but will it last until tomorrow? Will you be their ally or their foe?"

With every question that the man asked, he inched closer to Robert's face, forcing Robert to take several steps back. The man's smile grew until it was a mocking grin. "The answer to every question is the answer that makes no sense. Now listen to what your Thread of Fate holds for you:

"There is not one, there are not two, but there are three: so many are your Threads of Fate;  
"You think you are one but the other is there. When the other is gone, the third's hunger you'll sate.  
"When at last you remember who you are and what you were, it will already be far too late.  
"When you regain what was lost for so long, you must return to the single place that you most hate."

And with those final words, the man vanished. Robert blinked and glanced around, but he couldn't see the man anywhere. And all of the people around him just kept walking, not even paying him a second glance. At least, none of the second glances were because of what just happened, but mostly because of Rolshe. They were completely unaware of what had just happened.

Robert looked up at the great red and white bird behind him in bewilderment. "You saw all that too, right?" he asked. His friend gave a small cry, its usual sign of agreement. Robert sighed in relief. "Well, I'm confident in your sanity, at least, so I'll trust you that it actually happened." A wave of pain washed over him and he inhaled sharply in response, wincing. He quickly clutched his chest and tried to control his breathing as the episode passed.

Robert sighed. "Not long now." One of the strange man's questions drifted through the back of his mind.

_Your life may not end today, but will it last until tomorrow?_

Robert chuckled dryly. "That question is easy to answer. I may have a bad track record with knowing when to die, but I think I'll finally be able to figure it out this time."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Anybody see similarities between Lucifer and Wyrd? No, they are not related by blood in any way.**_

_**Wyrd: You've portrayed a rather different side of me this chapter.**_

_**I don't want to deal with you, Wyrd. Go away. **_

_**Anyway, I think I'm overdoing the foreshadowing a little bit. Though I must say, it is all quite good in my own opinion. That was fully intending to pat myself on the back, because it really is. I worked hard on that stuff. **_

_**Feral: You realize how conceited that sounds.**_

_**Yep. I'm very proud of the interactions with Lucifer. I have given him a very significant role. I actually started to freak myself out a little creating that tense atmosphere in the fortune-telling tent. I love that part. Definitely one of my favorite parts of the story so far. And I have to take Sylvia's point of view on Lucifer- I had to continuously remind myself I was writing for a child. Granted, Lucifer is a very abnormal child, but a child all the same. **_

_**Xeralisk: how joyous that is. A role that is important for the six-year-old brat and the author forgetting what one of his own characters was like. **_

_**Shut up. Anyway, I'm sorry for the delay, but I give you my peace offering with this big chapter. Please find it in your hearts to forgive me. **_

_**William: NEVER!**_

_**Crap.**_

_**William: I HAVE COME FOR MY VENGEANCE UPON YOU FOR PROCRASTINATING SO MUCH!**_

_**I had tests! And projects! And speeches (Public speaking scares me)! And a lot of very interesting manga to read!**_

_**William: I CAN FORGIVE THE FIRST THREE, BUT THE FOURTH IS INEXCUSABLE! I REFUSE TO ALLOW THE INJUSTICE OF MAKNG US WAIT TWO MONTHS SLIDE MERELY BECAUSE YOU PROCRASTINATED!**_

_**You know what? I banish you to the depths of my mind. May you claw your way out only upon the calling of the story plot.**_

_**William:…**_

…

_**William: …Was that supposed to do something to me?**_

_**Yes. It was supposed to distract you long enough to give me time to run away. What you are currently talking to is a recorded message. (image of me fades)**_

_**William: WHY YOU-! (gives chase)**_

_**Lucifer: The author would find it ever so pleasurable and exciting if you were to find it within your heart to leave a review for him here. All kinds are accepted and taken to heart (or at least considered). This has been a Storyteller of Darkness production. We thank you for taking time out of your day to peruse our story, and we sincerely hope to see you in the near future (We say **_**hope **_**because the author has a tendency to procrastinate).**_


	15. Chapter 15: Breeding Dreams

_**Heeheehee!**_

_**Lucifer: I have a very bad feeling.**_

_**Why is that?**_

_**Lucifer: you're laughing sinisterly while rubbing your hands together like a villainous madman waiting for his plan to unfold. **_

_**I always do that. **_

_**Lucifer: Never on paper.**_

_**True enough.**_

_**Anyway, let's get started with the anonymous reviews!**_

_**0: Seeing as you sent in your review for chapter 6, I'm not sure when you'll get to reading this chapter and get this response. I wasn't trying to threaten anyone by saying I don't have to be writing this story, I was merely stating a fact. And don't have time? You can write a review in a grand total of one minute. I'm not asking for a freaking essay! And I'm glad that you took the time to review. Don't worry, I don't plan on stopping anytime soon, because I know the pain of finding a good story only for it to be discontinued all too well…**_

_**PockySnowshadow: PMs were turned off for you so I answered here. Do you have enough smileys in your review? One for almost every sentence! Anyway, I'm glad you are enjoying my story and I'm excited you couldn't see any of the plot twists though I haven't implemented any of the great ones I have planned yet. The ones I've had so far are nothing compared to what I've got in store (evil grin). It makes me happy to know that I hide them well, because I love being surprised as well. **_

_**Two chapters in a row I got a review from someone who has an account, but I couldn't respond with a pm. Is this going to become a consistent occurrence?**_

_**Lucifer: I don't know.**_

_**But you're supposed to know the future!**_

_**Lucifer: I only know what will happen in my world, in Aselia, because of you.**_

… _**You're useless to me now.**_

_**Lucifer: I'm at least able to tell if you are lying or not and that was perhaps the largest lie I have ever seen.**_

_**What about "I hate the Legend of Zelda games"?**_

_**Lucifer: … Okay, you win on that one.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 15: Breeding Dreams

Lucifer sat nervously in the chair of the restaurant that he and his sister visited regularly. He had just experienced the most traumatic event of his life when he tried to gaze into the futures of the three teens earlier that day. He understood little of what he had seen and even less of what the tarot cards had told him. But that was not the source of his discomfort.

The restaurant was crowded, giving the boy a slight headache as his gift forced him to view the pasts of the other customers. It made it hard to concentrate on Jenny's exhausting amount of energy. And it dampened the appetite he had gained from the difficult triple-fortune, but again, none of these things were the source of his discomfort.

No, it was what the mere glimpses of the Threads of Fate he saw that was bringing the boy discomfort. The past was not the problem: that was easy to deal with. The problem was the general idea of the future. Very soon, almost every person within that restaurant would be dead.

The cause: Lucifer could not tell. One of the anomalies of the Threads of Fate was cutting off all of the future strings. As a result, he could not identify the cause. It made him more nervous than anything.

"Brother, are you okay? You haven't eaten your food." Jenny's voice snapped Lucifer out of his worry and brought his attention to her.

He smiled at her curious and worried glance. "I'm fine, Jenny. I'm just a little tired from working earlier," he told her. Jenny nodded and returned to eating her food with gusto, leaving Lucifer to wander in his thoughts again.

Jenny hadn't been old enough to understand what it meant when their parents died, and the only reason Lucifer could was because of his "gift". Jenny looked up to her brother almost as a parent. And Lucifer loved his sister as much in return, and was fiercely protective of her. His greatest fear wasn't the thought that he might die soon with the others. In fact, he wouldn't care if he did. His greatest fear was that his sister wouldn't survive, and according to her thread, the chance of her dying was very high.

He would do anything to prevent that.

He would love to say that, and he would be quick to tell anyone that, but he knew that anything he could do would be futile. Another curse of the Thread Diviners was that though they could see and inform others of their Fates, they could do nothing to change Fate themselves. By attempting to save someone, they would trigger the death of the one they wished to save.

Lucifer kept a vigilant watch, making sure to eat often enough that Jenny didn't get worried. He hated to deceive Jenny like that, but it was more important to him that she survived. They were just about to pay for their food and leave when the moment Lucifer had been dreading happened.

Screams of terror resounded from outside just before something massive bashed the front wall in, spraying large chunks of debris into the building and onto almost all of the occupants, crushing them beneath the weight. Those unfortunate enough to survive were left to slowly bleed out or suffocate as their crushed bodies struggled to escape the boulders that pinned them in place.

As soon as the wall was breached, Lucifer dove to cover Jenny, protecting her from debris. What pained him was that he knew that if Jenny was meant to die, his action would do nothing to protect her, but at least he would die with the last of his family.

Almost as soon as it started, it ended. The debris stopped and to Lucifer's relief, they were both still alive. He crawled off of Jenny, wincing as he aggravated some new bruises the falling debris gave him. He turned to see what had happened and immediately wished he hadn't.

A massive lizard-like creature was hunched over on the street beyond. It was at least twenty feet long from head-to-tail, and stood ten feet high. Its back was so low that its arms were almost touching the ground, giving the appearance of a beast that was meant to stand on all fours. Its mottled skin reeked of rotting meat and the flesh on both of its forearms had rotted away completely, though it could still move them perfectly fine. The wings on its back were crooked and looked as if they were broken in several places, and the membrane stretched across it was tattered and ragged. Lucifer had never seen something so nauseating in his short life. Jenny was screaming and crying in terror at the sight of the beast and Lucifer was merely too terrified to do anything.

"Decus, bring the boy to me," a woman's voice commanded. Lucifer tore his attention from the rotting monstrosity before him to see a man and a woman near the creature's legs. The woman had blond hair and was holding some kind of whip that looked a lot like a rapier with a tassel on the end. The man had purple hair and carried a massive black and gold sarcophagus, something Lucifer vaguely recognized as an Iron Maiden.

Then Lucifer realized that the woman was pointing at him, and the man was leaping to obey her. Lucifer couldn't move as he stood frozen in fear of the two. He couldn't see their threads. He saw images of their past and he could feel them in the past, but when he tried to find them in the present, they weren't there. He flinched and almost screamed out in pain as he felt the worst sensation he had ever known spread through his body. A sword was raked across his back, digging deeply in a mortal wound. In the same instant, blades were torn across his body and he felt an aching emptiness fill his being. Lucifer choked back sobs as he realized what it was he felt. He raised his head to gaze at the man approaching him, his eyes quivering in terror as he realized what it was he had just experienced and why he couldn't find their threads in the present.

The sensation of nothingness he felt was the sensation of death. These two had already died. Everything Lucifer had thought he had known about the world was immediately thrown into question as his mind ceased to function as it tried to comprehend those thoughts.

"No! Don't take Brother!" Jenny shrieked as the purple-haired man started to reach for Lucifer, her words nearly unintelligible as she grabbed onto her brother, holding on tightly and causing the man to falter. Her shriek had managed to bring Lucifer back to the situation as well, and he shook his head dazedly as he decided to think on what it all meant later.

The man turned back to the woman, uncertainty on his face as he asked, "What should I do with the little girl, Alice?"

The woman he had called Alice sighed and seemed annoyed by the question. "Do you really need me to tell you how to do everything, Dumbo-Decus?" she responded. "We don't need her and she'll only just get in the way. Kill her."

"As you wish, my angel," he said, smiling at her. He then opened the Iron Maiden to reveal a massive two-handed broadsword. He grabbed it with one hand and easily lifted it, preparing to kill Jenny. Jenny screamed as the weapon fell towards her and Lucifer jumped to protect his sister, closing his eyes and waiting for the bite of the blade.

But instead of pain, he heard the sound of metal clashing with metal. He looked up to see the back of a very tall man covered in black gear wielding a scythe. Decus's massive sword was caught on the scythe's handle, and the man in black was struggling to keep it there. The man's past flew before Lucifer's eyes and knew that Robert, the man's name, was not the best person to be protecting him. He grabbed his sister and waited for his chance.

"Damn! I thought that sword was so big because you were compensating for something. I never dreamed it was because it was the only thing heavy enough for you could use!" the black-garbed man grunted. Then he chuckled to himself. "I guess it's true what they say: Assuming makes an _ass_ out of _you _and _me_."*

Decus ignored the insults and signaled in an overly dramatic way for the other man to move. "Get out of my way. I don't want to keep my Alice waiting," he ordered.

Robert snorted. "Nothing going on that one."

"Then I'll make you move." Decus suddenly jumped back to create some space, causing the man in black to pitch forward when the force he was holding back was suddenly released. Decus gripped his sword in both hands and slammed it into the ground right in front of his opponent. "Ausbruch!" a pillar of purple fire was launched from the ground and caught Robert right in the chest. Robert coughed as the air was knocked form his lungs and he was sent crashing into one of the piles of rubble that littered the restaurant.

Decus slipped his ponytail behind him and smiled suavely. "Next time, I'll be sure not to let you off the hook so easy."

Robert coughed some more and crawled back to his feet. "That all you got?" he wheezed. He winced and gently clutched his chest. "Cause I sure hope it is. That really hurt."

Decus's eyes bugged out and Alice was slightly intrigued. "That's some impressive armor you're wearing. Assuming Master Bios is right, then that's your famous dragon hide armor. I wondered how Nazo didn't end up killing you," she said. Her amber eyes left Robert to stare at the two siblings, who were trying to make their escape. She flicked her rapier towards them and the enormous behemoth that stood silently watching everything began to lumber slowly towards them. "It was a valiant effort trying to distract us from our target, but you'll need to do better than that to outsmart me."

Robert only smiled. "You assume I'm the only one helping. You remember what I said about assuming, right?" he responded as he brought his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle.

A bird of prey's call responded and a massive hawk-like creature dressed in plumage that was white and red descended from the sky, diving at speeds that were dangerously close to the sound barrier. Hanging on the bird's back, clutching the feathers for dear life, was a woman with steel knuckles and a scandalous outfit.

The monstrous beast raised its head to look at the view along with everyone else. As the bird and woman dove straight for it, the woman jumped off of the bird and entered a free fall, her fist pulled back for a punch and glowing slightly with mana.

"Meteor Strike," she shouted as she slammed into the massive monstrosity. The creature bellowed in pain as it toppled over backwards from the force of the blow, landing with a resounding crash on some buildings behind it.

Amarildia landed gracefully and surveyed her handiwork. A cheeky smile split her face and she held out her hand in a "V for victory" pose. "Hell yeah! Now that's what I'm talking about! Didn't see that coming, didja?" she crowed. Rolshe landed next to Robert and gave a small squawk that sounded suspiciously like a sigh while eying the woman.

"Rolshe thinks you're acting like an idiot again," Robert translated.

"It thinks I'm an idiot in general."

The bird did nothing in response except hop from one foot to the other a couple times and reaching down to groom some feathers beneath her wing. "I think she's agreeing with that," Robert guessed. "Either that or she's ignoring you entirely because you hurt her feelings when you called her an 'it'."

Suddenly, a fireball flew between them straight at Decus, only for the man to block it with his sword. Liam rushed the purple-haired man, only for the punch he threw to be nimbly avoided. Suddenly, a frost colored runic circle blinked into existence beneath Liam's feet before the spell was cast with almost no time to charge. "Icicle!" Decus was forced to leap away as a massive chunk of ice formed right where he had been standing, fading when it failed to pierce its target.

Liam jumped away himself to rejoin his comrades. "The kids are safe. Did I miss anything?"

"Only how the bird and I just rocked that big monster's world."

"She has a name, Amarildia."

"You know, I'm starting to feel a little insulted. You don't seem to be taking us very seriously," Alice pouted. "If you don't start paying attention, then you might miss your own deaths."

Robert rolled his eyes. "I really don't care either way. Unless you can manage to pierce my armor, I'll be fine. And I've been keeping an eye on you the whole time. I'm not an amateur."

"Well, you three have cost us our mission. I hope you're willing to pay the price," Decus told them.

Amarildia laughed. "The biggest threat here was that big lug of a monster, and now that that's dead, I think we can take ya on." She cracked her knuckles.

Robert sighed. "Amarildia, never goad the enemy like that unless you know them well enough that you know they don't have anything up their sleeve. The one with the purple hair is a lot stronger than you think and we don't even know anything about them. Plus, goading usually makes them want to contradict you."

"Well, what are they gonna do?" Amarildia asked, overconfidence swelling her pride.

Suddenly, the massive half-rotten lizard-beast put its arms beneath it and managed to shuffle back to its feet. It glared down with its huge eyes at the three. Robert face-palmed. "Something like reveal the fact that their giant pet monster isn't really dead."

"Oh, I don't need the Behemoth to deal with you," Alice said in an innocent voice. She held out her hand, which had a small cut oozing blood from it. "Bone Prison."

A massive cage made of bones rose up from the ground and surrounded the three of them. All three of them blinked in shock. Liam turned to the other two with a flat expression. "I know right now isn't the best time for this, but I told you this was a bad idea."

"How was I supposed to know she could do this? I don't even recognize this kind of magic." Robert said defensively.

Alice waltzed up to the cage and smiled coyly at them. "Hmm, now what should I do with you three. Master Bios will be awfully mad when he finds out I didn't manage to get the boy for him. He wanted the kid so much for one of his experiments." Alice grinned an evil, cat-like grin. "Maybe I should take you to him. That would certainly be entertaining."

"Why do I feel like a hare being stared down by a hungry wolf?" Liam asked.

Amarildia frowned and started punching at the bars to their prison. "I'm not sticking around long enough to hear her debate with herself on how to torture us."

Decus laughed at her as he returned his sword to the Iron Maiden. "Don't bother. Alice's necromancy is second only to Bios's. You'll never be able to break through her prison."

Alice shot a glare at Decus. "If you want to compliment me, do it in a way that actually works. The only necromancers alive are me and Master Bios, so of course mine is better than anyone's besides his," she scolded.

Robert frowned as a feeling of dread crept into his gut. As the two were distracted with their argument, he turned to his avian friend. He whispered something and the hawk clacked her beak in anger. Robert shook his head and whispered something else urgently. The bird gave a small cry of submission and flew off.

Decus looked mortified. "I-I'm so sorry, Alice. I was only trying-"

"Shut up," Alice commanded, once again ignoring him. Her eyes drifted over to Robert and a small look of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a cat-like smile. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

Before anyone could answer, she had raised her hand again and chanted in an unfamiliar language. "Bone Gallows!" she finished. In response to the spell, four curved blades of bone rose from behind Robert. They plunged into his shoulders and to back of his legs, piercing through the tough armor and lifting him off the ground. Robert let out a yell of pain at the sudden attack.

Alice pretended to pay it no mind as she began to chant again. She had a coy, innocent smile on her face but the hint of sadistic glee in her eyes betrayed her true feelings. Some of the blood on her hand rose in a cloud and wafted over the armor on Robert's upper body. The material began to quickly rot away, leaving the bare flesh beneath exposed.

The sight beneath was something that was entirely unexpected. From his waistline to a few inches above his sternum, all of the veins were swollen and bulging out. They were black as tar and seemed to pulse on their own. The unmistakable symptoms of the Withering were only a few inches from his heart.

Alice's smile abandoned its innocence as she gazed upon the swollen veins and traced some with the tip of her whip. "It really is true! You have been cursed by Nazo's stupid swords. Looks like Nazo did manage to cut you after all." Alice lifted her whip up to Robert's chin so she could tilt his head to look in his eyes. "I guess I won't kill you after all. That little curse is more than anything I could manage to do." Robert winced as the pulsing blackness creeped ever so slightly closer to his heart. She savored the fire in his eyes, because she knew that it was hiding the despair in the man's heart.

Decus shifted uncomfortably. "Alice, why are you still looking at him? You have me, you don't need anyone else."

Alice growled in irritation. "Shut up, Dumbo-Decus. And get away from me! If I have to breathe in any more of that stupid cologne then I'm going to keel over."

"That smell is coming from him? I thought it was that monster," Liam whispered to Amarildia.

"I can't believe I'm the one saying this but shouldn't we be more focused on how we're going to get out of this?" She responded as she continued to try to break the walls of bone that held them.

Alice then turned her attention to the duo. Her sadistically innocent smile seemed it would become stuck on her face if she held it for much longer. "And how am I to deal with you? It would be mercy for me to kill the other man, but you two are a different story. I need to punish you for getting in the way of my mission."

"You could partially hang us before cutting our guts open and spilling out our entrails then proceeding to burn us alive,**" Liam suggested. Amarildia turned to gaze at her partner in amazement, her mouth agape. "Why are you helping them decide how to kill us?" she demanded.

Liam shrugged. He then grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "If what I did confused you, how do you think they'll react? Their surprise will give us some more time to figure out how to escape. You know me well enough to know that I think through everything."

Just as Liam had predicted, Alice and Decus were surprised by his suggestion. "That suggestion reminded me vaguely of Master Bios. He always seems to enjoy causing as much pain as possible. That's what I like about him."

Liam frowned when he heard the name "Bios" again. "I don't think there's more than one person with the name, but I can't help hoping otherwise. Whenever you say 'Master Bios', then the Bios you're referring to wouldn't happen to be Heretic Bios, the Leader of Samael's Disciples, would it?" he asked.

Alice sighed in sadness. "That's what those idiots call him. I really don't see the point to his stupid little religious group, though. It's just as false as the Church of Martel."

Amarildia jerked forward and tried to grab at Alice through the space between the pillars of bone. "Say that we're a sham where I can reach you, I dare you!" she snarled.

Alice looked surprised for a moment before a wicked grin adorned her face. "Oh my, I didn't think I'd meet any of the suckers who actually fell for his crap here! You don't even know who Master Bios really is, do you? To think you'd been following the very man who created necromancy."

"Impossible," Liam said, "Heretic Bios's teachings center upon Lord Samael, the God of Death and Destruction. He has emphasized himself numerous times that any act of profaning the dead is an act against Lord Samael. Something like necromancy - which thrives upon mocking and profaning the dead - is a blatant and atrocious act of war against Samael. The man who leads us would never stoop to join the ranks of those who deliberately mock both Psyche and Samael together!" Liam clenched his fist and glared at the half-elf. "I will not sit by and listen to you mock our leader."

A runic circle the color of lightning formed beneath him for the briefest of instants before the spell was complete. "Lightning!" Decus leapt forward and raised his sword above Alice's head, absorbing the lightning strike and taking the damage himself. He glared coolly at Liam, the high-voltage strike not even fazing the tall man.

Alice giggled at the Liam's rage. "I don't think you quite understand. Master Bios _created_ necromancy. He is the one who wrote the Necrimonicon. Not only that, but he is under the rule of Death itself," she told him. Liam was baffled and opened his mouth to say something else, only to be stopped as Alice held out her rapier. "A Season in Hell!" she shouted as a cone of fiery rays shot out, catching the mercenary off-guard and scorching him as he was thrown back. "Liam!" Amarildia shouted in shock as she rushed to help him up.

Alice glared at the two. "I must admit, it's impressive for a human like you to learn even the most basic magic. But you'll never be able to beat someone like me in a magic duel. Now, I'm bored by your attempts at stalling. I'll just allow the minions to eat you. Behemoth!" the massive creature, which had been standing perfectly still the entire time, turned towards its mistress. "Two full squads of Minions." She commanded.

The creature nodded and curled up even further as a shudder wracked its body. The flesh on its arms began to recede as the beast began to hack and wheeze much like a cat trying to throw up a hairball. Soon enough, two massive clumps of flesh flew out of its mouth and landed in the prison of bones. The flesh stopped receding just short of the creatures shoulders. Now almost the entire length of its arms was purely bones.

The masses of flesh began to shift and morph. Holes ripped open in them and Bio-Doulos and Bio-Soldiers crawled out of them. Eight of the unarmored beasts and two of their armored counterparts were now standing within the confines of the mercenary trio's prison.

Liam and Amarildia stared at the new appearances in utter horror. "What the hell is going on here?" Liam breathed to himself.

Alice smiled. "While your suggestion was good, I thought of something better. For getting in my way, I decided I would have the minions eat you. I hope they enjoy their snack." She flicked her eyes towards the group of lizard-beasts. "Only eat the two that aren't held by my Bone Gallows."

The creatures let out gasping hisses that were most likely signs of pleasure. They began to stalk towards their prey, fanning out to surround them. Amarildia and Liam stood back-to-back, slowly rotating to get a good view of all the beasts. "I don't think we'll be able to get out of this one, Am." Liam said sadly.

"I'm not gonna let 'em make a snack out me without a fight! I don't want to hear yer pessimistic crap, Liam. We're gonna tear 'em all to shreds!" Amarildia shouted to her partner, her defiance shining brightly in her eyes.

Suddenly, a small fireball fell from the sky and exploded above the Minions, scorching and incinerating several of them, leaving a gap in the circle. Soon after, a massive wave of earthen spikes rose and speared the beasts on the other side, retracting back into the ground and repeating the process several times. Both Amarildia and Liam blinked in surprise before turning to the two Bio-Doulos that were left. A large runic circle surrounded them and bolts of holy lightning began to fall from the sky, obliterating them and leaving both the mercenaries and the Unborn duo shocked.

Above them, Rolshe gave a triumphant cry, quickly followed by one of alarm as the hawk saw her friend's state. She streaked from the sky and landed by him, hopping and fretting over him like a hen over her chicks.

Amarildia turned to Liam. "I didn't know you could cast spells like that. What happened to only being able to use first tier magic?"

Liam shook his head. "That wasn't me." He turned and raised his hand to indicate a large group of people that had just arrived. "That was them."

The Heroes of Regeneration and their children stood there, weapons drawn and ready. At the front, Raine, Genis, Sylvia, and Sylpher stood. The first three were in positions that showed it was they who had cast the spells. Slylpher stood in front of them all, his hand resting on the handle of his ax as he leaned lightly on it with his other hand on his hip. He had a look of triumph and a brilliant smirk as he opened his mouth and announced, "The cavalry has arrived!"

Sylvia rolled her eyes and smacked the back of her twin's head. "You're only allowed to say something like that if you actually helped save them, idiot"

Sylpher looked up at her, rubbing his head. "But if I did that, then I wouldn't have had time to do my pose!" he complained. Sylvia gave a small groan and put her hand to her forehead as she said, "I can't believe I'm related to you."

"I love you too, sis!"

Alice was livid at the sight of them. "I can't believe this! Everything is going wrong today!" she stamped her foot in frustration. Her eyes narrowed in rage as she began to bounce her whip in her hand, a soft _slap_ punctuating each stroke. "Bios knew this would happen! I thought it was strange when he gave us a Breeder-class Minion for something that should be a simple mission. I can't believe him! Did he even want me to capture that stupid brat?"

Decus looked at his partner with worry. "Alice, don't worry. I'm sure we'll be able to make him pay. Besides, these people are nothing to us! We'll just crush them and go after the boy. There's no need to get so angry," he soothed.

Alice growled. She flicked her hand and a small blade came out of the handle of her whip. She brought it across her hand where the shallow cut from earlier had already sealed. This time, the blade cut more deeply, a steady stream of blood trickling out. "I'm tired of these interruptions! I'll show that stupid old bag of bones! He didn't think I would be able to get that brat for him, but I'll show him! He didn't know I managed to steal some of his precious Cinder Crystals!"

The angered half-elf pulled out several shards of the Cinder Crystals from the sealing chamber of the Triet Ruins. She placed them in the welling pool of blood in her hand and began to chant furiously.

The group began to run towards her. "Don't let her finish that chant! She's going to summon Nightmares!" Kratos shouted.

The shining gems of mana began to soak up the blood, and the pool in her hand was quickly absorbed. As her chanting reached a crescendo, the gems drifted forward to float in front of her. The Behemoth suddenly sprang to life, moving to block the group's path. Kratos cursed, knowing they were too late.

Each of the six crystals began to spout flames that twisted and wove in the air to form a tapestry of fire. Three of the crystals formed a pair of arms and a body, large wings of fire spouted out from their backs. The other three grew powerful legs and a long, spindly tail. Each of the upper bodies drifted over one of the lower bodies and the two were weaved together. Then a head grew out of the torsos and eyes black as coal looked out at them.

The winged beings of raging fire stood there for a moment before the inferno that formed them died, leaving bodies that glowed gently like hot, burning coals, small flames licking their bodies from head to toe. Unlike the Shade Nightmares from before, these creatures seemed to have more substance about them: Their bodies were solid and defined, not evanescent and hard to distinguish from the shadows; their stance upon their two legs was powerful and sure, instead of the animalistic crawling of their counterparts; they stood tall and still, patiently awaiting orders instead of prowling around their master.

Kratos frowned. "I thought she would summon Flare Nightmares, but those are not like any Nightmares I've seen or heard of before."

Raine's eyes sparkled with fascination. "Those creatures were formed from Cinder Crystals! They are purely mana-based beings, just like summon spirits! This must be the Cinder Crystals true purpose. But why would they seal a Death-Demon with gems that are used in necromancy?" she said.

Lloyd shook his head. "Professor, I don't think know is a good time for that. We don't know what those things are capable of, and I don't think we'll like it."

Colette gasped. "Look! That person over there stuck on those bones! Isn't that Robert?" Thomas's eyes widened in horror as he looked to where his mother was pointing and saw the black veins that decorated the man's torso, immediately recognizing the curse upon him. "He's got Withering! But I thought Nazo never managed to touch him!"

Presea turned to face the Behemoth before them. "Now is not the time. I do not know why this beast hasn't attacked us, but we need to be prepared for when it does. I doubt we will be able to go around it, so we will most likely have to kill it." She turned to her children. "Use some Magic Lenses. We need to know what we're up against."

The twins rushed to comply, digging in their packs for the magical devices. "The monster thing is a Behemoth. It's some kind of Minion, since its race is unlisted. No strengths or weaknesses. It seems it can take quite a few hits, too," Sylpher reported as he raised his Magic Lens to his eyes.

Sylvia frowned as she looked through her Magic Lens. "These ones aren't Nightmares. They're called Cinder Dreams. Race: Spirit; Strength: Fire; Weakness: Ice. They're tougher than those Shade Nightmares, too."

Kratos whipped around to stare at Sylvia. "Cinder Dreams! Are you certain?" he demanded. Sylvia nodded. Kratos cursed loudly.

"Is there something we should know about them, Kratos?" Genis asked.

Kratos nodded gravely, his normally dour demeanor taking on a new aspect of seriousness. "The Dream class is supposed to be a legend. They are related to Nightmares, however they are further refined and even more terrifying than the Nightmares. The secret to their creation was supposed to be lost a long time ago. Supposedly, only the Horror class is stronger. I have no idea what their abilities are and what restrictions there are on them, so I'm afraid we'll have to play it by ear."

Alice was smiling wickedly again. "Had enough time to realize how hopeless it is? Now, I'm going to finally get rid of all of you once and for all. My Dreams will turn you all to dust, so not even Death itself will be able to resurrect you. Now, die!" she shouted as she swung her whip rowards them, triumph in her eyes.

The three Dreams held their arms out before them. Fire gathered in their palms and grew in strength, growing brighter as the magic charged. At the same time, the Behemoth reared back, letting out an ear-splitting screech, and dove at them, mouth agape to engulf them all.

Everyone began to move, but suddenly, a magic barrier was erected in front of them. The Behemoth roared in surprise as it bounced harmlessly off of the force field and once again met the sand as it toppled over. The massive fireball the Dreams fired met the same fate against the shield.

Everyone gaped as a too-familiar figure stood in front of them, one of the portals of the Unborn closing beside her. All of the Heroes stared in shock and confusion, mouths agape. Silence reigned for an instant before Colette tentatively broke it.

"Martel?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

*that is an actual saying, as far as I'm aware. If you didn't understand it, separate "Assume" into three parts, "Ass-u-me" and think of it like this: to "assume" makes and "ass" out of "u" and "me".

**For those of you who are unaware, this is the traditional punishment Great Britain used for acts of high treason. Sounds like a fun time, doesn't it?

_**Bwahaha, evil cliffhanger. Explanations next chapter, which I promise to get up by the end of the month. **_

_**Lucifer: go ahead and give your excuse.**_

_**What excuse?**_

_**Lucifer: the one you have for taking so long to update.**_

_**That's an easy one. LEGEND OF ZELDA: SKYWARD SWORD! And Ocarina of Time/OoT: Master Quest on my Nintendo 3DS.(To those of you who have played OoT, I'm sure you share my sentiment when I say: MAY THE HELLSPAWN KNOWN AS THE WATER TEMPLE PERISH ETERNALLY IN THE PERPETUAL FIRES OF HELL!)**_

_**I find it hard to believe I haven't mentioned this yet, but I am a HUGE LoZ fan. In fact, the best gift I got for Christmas was a shirt with the Song of Storms on it with "Make it rain" beneath that. It is so awesome. Unfotunately, the shirt seems cursed because every time I've worn it, I spilled something that stains easily on it. WHY?**_

_**I know most of you don't care. BUT I DO!**_

_**Lucifer: how does your roommate keep sane around you?**_

_**You're assuming he was sane to begin with.**_

_**Perhaps the biggest reason it didn't get up until now is because when I was writing it one night, I wrote about 3,000 words in one sounds like a good thing, but while I was still in the middle of writing, my computer crashed and I lost all of that work. How's that for demotivation?**_

_**Another reason was because I just felt bad doing all this evil stuff to everyone and especially a six year old kid. I've put you though too much, Lucifer.**_

_**Lucifer: You have a conscience?**_

_**Kind of. Mostly it was because I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen and school.**_

_**Lucifer: Much less surprising.**_

_**Review and tell me what you thought of my chapter! **_

_**Random Rant that you can skip over because you probably don't care: Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time was the first game to be rated 10 out of 10 by IGN. It is one of the greatest games ever (I don't say that, a lot of people do. I just happen to agree. I'm not sure whether it is sad or funny that I pretty much have the entire game memorized **_**=/**_** ). Skyward Sword has topped the high standards of the Legend of Zelda series brought on by OoT and is one of the greatest games ever. I. Love. It. So. Much. If you actually read this and have played/are playing SS, tell me what you think of it. If you are also a Zelda nerd then I would love to geek out with you. Happy New Year!**_


	16. Chapter 16: Means to an End

_**Greetings, my readers. I am in a very joyous mood.**_

_**Nazo: RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!**_

_**Was that truly necessary?**_

_**Nazo: Yes. You're in a good mood. There is only one possible conclusion to that situation. **_

_**Not true. It doesn't always in a bloodbath of carnage and destruction! You hurt my feelings, Nazo. **_

_**Nazo: I wasn't aware you had any to hurt.**_

_**T_T You really know how to kill me inside. I am still human, you know! Which is more than you can say, so shut up!**_

_**Nazo: … I did deserve that biting remark, didn't I?**_

_**You sure did. Anyway, the reason I'm happy is because I got four reviews for my last chapter, and I didn't even beg for them! I'm so happy! Now, on to my story!**_

_**Nazo: Aren't you forgetting to respond to anonymous reviews?**_

_**Nope. There were none. I thought I'd save myself the typing. Plus, my ANs have been getting really long. I'm trying to cut back.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 16: Means to an End

Alice's face became positively venomous as she looked at Martel. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, her voice dripping with venom. Martel lowered her staff and looked towards the other half-elf.

"I was sent to stop you, Alice. Bios himself sent me," Martel answered.

"Bios was the one who gave us this mission. Why would he make us stop?" Decus asked.

Alice's frown deepened. "If you think I'll listen to you then you're even stupider than I took you for."

"D**iD **_Yo__**U**_** RE**_**a**__LL_y THi**nk MaST**_**ER**_** w**_ouLD _sEnD _**H**_**ER aL**_onE_?" a twisted, strangled voice asked from nowhere. Before anyone could do anything, the Behemoth let out an ear-splitting screech. Something was wrapping around the monster. The sounds of bones crunching and flesh tearing could be heard as the shapeless mass of flesh consumed the Behemoth whole. As the spectacle ended, the creature that had eaten the beast gathered itself together.

It was something out of a nightmare. It was no taller than a man, but it had no legs or arms. Bones stuck out at odd angles. It never truly settled, the twisted, warped flesh shifting constantly in a vaguely human shape. Its body was stretching and shrinking, restlessly changing as it remained in one place. A single crooked eye stared out at them from its face. A lopsided mouth opened to reveal a gaping maw filled with teeth filed to points.

"**WE **aRE **MoRE**_** E**__nTWin__**ED**_** wiT**H o**UR M**_**aSTE**__R's __**W**_**iLL THa**_**n**__ anY oTHER_," the creature said. The voice of the monstrosity was painful to hear. It was thousands of tortured voices all crammed into one in a wretched cacophony of misery.

Alice paled at the sight of the thing that had consumed her Behemoth. A single word escaped her lips, "Legion."

"_WE aR__**E**_** noT**_** T**__HE M__**ain **_**bo**_**DY.**__ WE a_RE bU**T a **_**LEJonaiRRE**_**,**_** an**__ ExTEn_Sion _**of LE**_**Gion**." The creature responded. Its single eye twisted around so it gazed at Martel. "_bRinG __**TH**_**E CUR**SED **onE To **_**US.**__ MaSTER Ha__**S**_** pLanS FoR **THaT_** onE.**_"

The group stared in confusion at the turn of events. Martel quickly complied and walked towards Robert and the other. She cast a quick spell to undo Alice's necromancy. The creature turned to look at Alice. "_**YoUR TE**__ST HaS _**bEEn p**aSSED_. YoU_** aR**_**E **__To L__**E**_**avE no**W, _aL__**iCE**__,_" It ordered.

Alice was silent, but nodded her head and opened a portal. She cast one last glare filled with loathing at the group before she walked confidently into the portal. Her Dreams strode after their mistress. Kratos noted that despite her demeanor she was clutching the handle of her rapier in a white-knuckled death-grip.

Decus hesitated before he followed and turned back to face the group. "Next time, Alice and I won't hesitate to crush you. If Legion hadn't shown up today, then you all would have died. Be thankful that luck is on your side today." With those last words, he hurried after his love into the portal.

The Legionnairre's eye turned to the group. Everyone had looks of horror crossed with confusion plastered on their faces. It let out a wicked cackle that made everyone's skin crawl.

"**YoU **_aRE Con_FUSE**D. **_**SHa**__LL W__**E Ex**_**pLain?**" it asked. "_pE_RH**apS a **_**MoRE…**__ HU__**Ma**_**n **f_oRM iS __**in **_**oRDER.**" The being began to twist itself once more. It shifted and morphed itself into a perfectly human shape. The bones that stuck out of its body retracted. The constant instability ceased and it took the shape of a man. The single eye on its head stayed where it was, but the lopsided mouth shifted so that it was below the eye instead of beside it.

"There, now we are more stable. Our true form is not easy for mortals to comprehend," The Lejonairre said, its voice no longer the twisted chorus, though it was still monstrous in its own right.

"What is happening?" Kratos demanded.

The Lejonairre smiled even wider. "This entire ordeal was a test for Alice set up by our Master. He wanted to see how far she had come along in her mastery of necromancy. He will be pleased to know that she was indeed able to use and control the Dreams from the Cinder Crystals."

Before anyone could ask another question, Martel's voice called out behind the Lejonairre. "The man's companions won't let me near him."

The Lejonairre turned along with everyone else to see Liam and Amarildia standing protectively in front of Robert's prone form. Robert himself had passed out from blood loss. Rolshe was nowhere to be seen. The abomination let out a sigh. It crumbled into a formless mass once more and stretched itself towards Robert, snaking behind the two mercenaries before they could react.

It reformed itself into its true form behind them. "Y_oU a__**RE a **_nU**iS**_**an**__CE_! b_EG_**onE**!" it screeched, sending both flying with a sweep of a misshapen tentacle. Liam crashed heavily into Genis and Amarildia landed on Sylpher in a heap. Everyone scrambled to disentangle themselves and watched as the Lejonairre turned to face Robert.

The Lejonairre's eye widened in awe. "n**oW W**E _kno__**W W**__HY_ Ma**ST**_**ER H**__aS Ta_kEn a**n inTER**_**E**__ST in T__**Hi**_**S oNE.**" Then, without warning, its head split open into a massive mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. Everyone let out a cry of horror as the abomination sank those teeth into Robert's stomach.

Robert let out a roar of pain as his eyes flew open. The Lejonairre began to convulse violently as Robert continued to scream. The veins that had swelled and blackened from the curse quivered and slowly returned to normal.

After a few moments, the Lejonairre removed itself from Robert's body and reformed its head. Robert fell still once more and passed out. The lopsided grin split its face in two as it stared down at the curse-free Robert before it. "oU**R Job **_**H**__aS b__**EE**_**n DOn**E. W**E Can**_ no Lo__**nGER**_ Ma**inTa**_**in O**__UR_SELf. Yo_U WiLL E_**xpLai**n _**foR**__ US, M__**a**_**RTEL**," it said. The monster's form shuddered and convulsed more rapidly than usual before it exploded in a shower of gore. The pieces of the beast vanished in small puffs of smoke as soon as they landed.

Martel turned to face them. She gave a small bow. "I'm sure all of you are more surprised than you care to say. Let me start by introducing myself. I am Martel Yggdrasil, Twentieth Lord of the Unborn."

"But… then… that means that you're…" Lloyd stammered, unable to understand what was happening. No one blamed him, since they were all dumbfounded as well, or just confused beyond reason.

Martel nodded sadly. "Yes, I am Mithos's sister. I want to thank you for stopping my brother all those years ago."

Kratos looked at her solemnly. "I'm afraid you've got a lot of explaining to do, Martel. If you are a member of the Unborn, then how could Mithos have been able to keep your soul alive for all of those years? And how was your soul made part of the new Summon Spirit of the New World Tree?"

Martel sighed. "There is indeed much that I must tell you," she answered. She glanced over to Robert with concern. "But first, one of you should start to take care of this man. The Lejonairre absorbed the Withering from his body, but his life is still in danger from massive blood loss. I would do it myself, but his two companions obviously wouldn't trust me enough."

"We'll take care of it," Lima said. He and Amarildia went over and carefully picked up the unconscious berserker. "I know some healing artes. I don't really know what's going on, but I don't want anyone I don't know caring for him. We'll take him to the guild hall and get him patched up."

With that, the two of them left. Everyone returned their attention back to Martel. "I will start with the biggest question on your minds: How am I here when my soul was fused with the Great Seed?" she sighed sadly. "I was never a part of the Great Seed."

Before anyone could speak or interrupt, Martel continued. "When I died, I was killed by an elite elven assassin hired by a group of humans, as I'm sure Kratos remembers." Said Seraph merely nodded in confirmation. "What really happened, was while my brother, Yuan, and Kratos were distracted and enraged by my death, I was made into an Unborn. Our master then fashioned a pseudo-soul in my image to give Mithos hope of reviving me. It seems this false soul also merged with the summon spirit of the New World Tree, stabilized because of the many souls that formed the summon spirit and the nature of its new identity."

"Who could have the ability to do something like that?" Sylvia asked. "There's no way someone could make a fake soul."

"Our master can," Martel said. "His name is Xeralisk, the Summon Spirit of Death and Destruction."

Both Kratos gave a small grunt of surprise while Raine gasped. "B-but, he's supposed to only be a legend!" Raine said.

Everyone looked to her. "What are you talking about, sis?" Genis asked.

Kratos answered. "There is an ancient legend, older than even the Kharlan War, about a being called Xeralisk. People have known him by many names: the Grim Reaper, Shinigami*, Thanatos**, Pluto; but he is always portrayed as the source of Death. No one knows his reason for existence is, but the legend say he is descended from a god."

"I assure you, he is no mere legend," Martel told them.

"But, if the soul that was merged with the Great Seed was a fake, then how come I was possessed by you for a few mintues?" Colette asked. "How could you move and talk and do all those other things while you did that if you weren't really you?"

Martel smiled sadly. "Because Xeralisk programmed the soul that way. He made it an exact copy of mine, but he made it so it could never truly inhabit a body or even exist without something to stabilize itself. The mana of Derris-Kharlan was the only thing keeping it intact. When it merged with you, it couldn't maintain itself. That's why, no matter how many times Mithos tried and no matter what he did, the soul wouldn't accept a vessel."

"Why?" Lloyd asked simply. "Why would Xeralisk do something like that? The only reason Mithos did all of that was to try to revive you."

Martel nodded. "Indeed, that is why my brother did those terrible things. However, you don't quite understand yet. Xeralisk did more than just that. The assassin and the people that 'hired' him, were all Unborn. Xeralisk is the one who killed me. Of course, I didn't know this when he offered to make me an Unborn.

"As for why he did all of that, I think it should be obvious. If you think about what Mithos did, what his actions could have done, and who Xeralisk is, then I'm sure you can see why."

Presea nodded solemnly, her eyes filled with grim understanding. "To destroy everything."

The sound of clapping echoed in the empty street. "Precisely!" A familiar voice called out, ringing with excitement. "I'm glad this moment has finally come." Everyone turned and saw Wyrd standing casually amidst the rubble.

He looked to Martel. "You can go now. I'll be happy to take over from here."

"Who are you?" She asked, confused.

Wyrd's perpetual smile faded and his eyes turned hard. "My identity does not matter to someone like you. Leave, before I wipe you from existence," he ordered.

Martel hesitated, but opened a portal. She could tell by his voice he both had the ability and resolve to do just that. She walked through and vanished with the portal.

Wyrd's smile and carefree demeanor returned as soon as she left. "Now, I would like to explain some things to you. You have heard of Samael and Psyche by now, no doubt."

"Once or twice," Thomas shrugged. "They're supposed to be gods, right?"

Wyrd nodded. "Indeed. And now, allow me to give you all a proper introduction of who I am. I am Wyrd, the God of Fate."

"Say what?" Sylpher deadpanned.

Wyrd vanished before their eyes once more, only to reappear a few feet from them. "I am the one who directs everything. I see all and know all that happens. But don't worry, I don't know your thoughts. I'm not omniscient or omnipotent. I suppose one could call me the ultimate chess master. And to be quite blunt, you are all my pawns."

"Okay, I get that you're trying to explain who exactly you are, but is there a reason you're telling us all this now?" Lloyd asked impatiently.

The God of Fate dropped his smile and narrowed his eyes at the dual swordsman. He vanished and reappeared inches from Lloyd's face. "It is very rude to interrupt someone when they are talking. I will explain in time, whelp. You will all sit there and listen to what I have to say."

Wyrd's voice carried a deadly authority behind it. Everyone was speechless as the gaped at the god that seemed so carefree only moments ago. Wyrd took several steps back and folded his arms across his chest.

"Listen up. You all have been some favorite tools of mine to ensure the survival of this world in the past. Mithos and Ratatosk: both of those events would have never gone half as well without my interference. Psyche died to protect this world, and I will ensure that it is kept safe, along with all of her other creations. Aselia*** isn't the only thing she created."

Genis tentatively raised his hand like a student would in a classroom, eyes wide with fear. Wyrd flicked his eyes towards the half-elf, prompting him to speak. His voice shook slightly as he asked, "I-If Psyche was a god, then how could she die?"

"Simple," Wyrd answered. "Psyche, the Goddess of Life and Creation, was destroyed by Samael the Damned, better known as the God of Death and Destruction. Of course, Samael didn't get off scot-free for his actions and was met with capital punishment."

Lloyd blinked. "So… what happened to him?"

Wyrd rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Lloyd, my dear boy, you really are a wonderful fighter. Unfortunately, your brains could use a little tune-up. Capital punishment is the death penalty."

"Ok."

"Now, as I was saying, I have taken it upon myself to keep everything in order. Unfortunately, while I can manipulate mortals such as yourselves quite easily, summon spirits and these Unborn are beyond my control. That is why Lucifer either can only see parts of their Threads of Fate or is unable to see them altogether.

"You are no doubt wondering what Xeralisk is up to and how you are to stop him, but I need you to know that I am in control. I will guide you properly to the best of my ability."

The smile returned, though not fully and Wyrd's eyes lost most of their edge. "Before you ask, I cannot aid you any more than I have in the past. Indeed, it will look like I am not aiding you at all. The reason is because of the universal law amongst us gods: Gods are not to directly interfere with or expose themselves to mortals unless clear reason is given and observed by no less than four members of the High Council. I have limited myself to having next to no contact with mortals at all.

"I cannot help you fight Xeralisk because while he is not a mortal, he still is a part of the mortal world. As much as I want to, I cannot utterly destroy Xeralisk with my own hands. Fortunately, he isn't as much of a threat as Samael was."

"Excuse me for asking, but you haven't made on thing very clear. What do Samael and Psyche have to do with this?" Raine asked.

Wyrd smiled sadly. "More than you realize. Now, I must take my leave."

Wyrd vanished once more, only this time he didn't reappear. Everyone immediately began to discuss what this all meant.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Raine asked.

"We didn't get ourselves into anything. Apparently, it was all Wyrd," Lloyd said. "That's about everything I got from what he said."

"Who is Lucifer?" Presea asked.

"A six-year-old kid with a freaky ability to see people's pasts and glimpse their futures," Sylvia told her mother. "He's the fortune teller's apprentice."

"I see…" Presea said uncertainly.

"Basically, his abilities are closely connected with Wyrd, though I doubt the little kid realizes it. And let's also add that he's got some pretty serious baggage. We visited him earlier today, so we can explain about him later if you want," Sylpher responded.

"Why don't we figure out everything later," Colette suggested. "I'm worried about Robert."

Everyone agreed and they set off after the heavily wounded mercenary.

* * *

_They say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin._

William smiled wickedly as he stalked after his prey along the rooftops. His smile was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat, splitting his face from ear to ear and filled with pointed teeth. The night air was cool against his skin. William's hunger could no longer be ignored, not in the presence of so much tempting flesh. He had to hunt; he had to eat. The hunger demanded it of him.

_They also say that love makes people do strange things. _

But the hunger was not so great that he lost himself to it. He had to be smart. He had to choose someone that no one would miss. He had found that in the hobo that currently fled from him.

_If both sayings are true, then surely hatred makes people do crazy things as well._

William let out a small chuckle as the man futilely tried to flee. He sauntered casually after his prey. He could find the man easily by tracking his scent. Even from the rooftops, the man's foul odor of unwashed skin was easily discerned. William continued to crawl after his prey across the rooftops with ease.

_But the difference between love and hate is that hatred is so abundant that it has become normal._

The night was dark, almost too dark to see. Any and all lights had been doused by this time of night, and William had specifically waited for this day as the moon was merely a black disc in the night sky. Only the stars provided their meager light for vision, but William was unaffected by the darkness.

_If love were just as abundant as hatred, then love wouldn't make people do strange things at all. _

The poor hobo panted in fear as he ran. He was right to be afraid. He had seen a demon from his deepest nightmares, and icy fear drove its deadly spike straight into his heart. He ran for all he was worth, desperately trying to escape his pursuer from Hell. He stopped and bent over, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

_But hatred is everywhere. Humanity can't go without some form of hatred. It takes many forms._

He looked up to the rooftops to try to see if the demon was still following him. He froze as he caught a glimpse of its shadow outlined in the darkness. He fell to the ground ungracefully, despair holding his heart. There was nowhere left for him to run. He was too out of breath to scream. There was no hope for him.

_When someone is envious of another, they feel hatred because the other has something they do not. Anger is another form of hatred, merely fresh and wild and easily tamed. Then, there is pure hatred, one that is cultivated in numerous ways but is ground so deep into one's being that it is nearly impossible to remove._

William smiled ferociously, baring his teeth. He was excited to finally taste flesh once more. He leapt down and wrapped his tail around the man's neck and lifted him into the air. The man choked and clutched at his throat, trying to pry the appendage off of him. William neatly squeezed, crushing the man's windpipe and making it impossible for him to breath. He spread his wings and used them to rise to the rooftops once more.

_But love is present to counter hatred. A heart can stand for only so much hatred, but love allows it to withstand infinitely more hatred than it could alone. However, love can also be used to turn someone's heart so black with hatred that it could never hope to contain the malice that it bore._

William voraciously consumed the man, not allowing a single drop of blood to go to waste. He relished every bite and savored every morsel filled with the sweet, coppery taste of blood. After a few moments, nothing remained and William grinned wickedly once more, letting out a content sigh. He was nowhere near satisfied, but he was placated... for now. His hunger could wait a little longer to be fulfilled.

_When there is love, the heart is joyous. It clings jealously to that love. But if that love is taken away by hatred, all of the joy and happiness of that heart is turned to pure malice and hatred. A heart can contain as much love as is given to it, but only so much hatred can be contained._

William looked up at the black disc that was the moon. He was the greatest example of the potency of hatred. His hatred was so pure and so great it had warped his very being. It consumed him whole and devoured his heart. It was so terrible that William was forced to seal it away.

_Hatred makes people do strange things. But when someone does something drastic out of hatred, they are dumbfounded. They can't comprehend what makes someone do something like that. It is like love, but they are used to just writing that off as the power of love. Few understand the true power of hatred._

William hated humanity. So pure was his loathing it still survived to this day. But he could tolerate them now. His hatred gave him power, but it turned him into the very thing that human's saw him as. After his actions, William knew it was true. William was a monster, after all.

William slowly crept back towards his room where he was staying. He was tired of waiting. If he could not find a group to come with him to the Sealing Chamber by the end of the day, then he would leave anyway. He could always just go to the city. It's not like humanity mattered to him in the slightest.

His hunger had grown too impatient.

_Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Hate is powerful, but so is love. They say love conquers all. But sometimes, hate will conquer love._

_And if all these things are true of hatred, then what does it say about love?_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_***Shinigami: Japanese for God of Death. There are quite a few mangas/animes involving a figure with this title. Among them are Bleach, Death Note, and Soul Eater. All are very good.**_

_****Thanatos: Greek word for death.**_

_*****For those of you who don't know, Aselia is the actual name of the world in ToS. They never say it in the games and I didn't find out until a short while ago. I wouldn't be surprised if this was new knowledge for most of you.**_

_**That last bit was a little of my musings on hate. It also gives William a much darker side. Remember that he sealed his hate away. It'll be a long time before that comes into play, but it will be glorious when it does.**_

_**Nazo: What do you mean by sealing his hatred away?**_

_**Basically, William should no longer have the capacity to hate. **_

_**Nazo: but he still hates humanity.**_

_**Which just shows how deep his hatred is.**_

_**Nazo: You really need to follow your own logic sometimes.**_

_**Screw you. This is fiction, not reality. In fiction, I could turn the sky banana yellow and make the sun a giant grape and it would still be kosher.**_

_**Nazo: … I'm not sure about that.**_

_**Okay, maybe that's taking it a little too far, but it gets my point across.**_

_**So, who saw Wyrd being the God of Fate coming? I'm sure one reader did. They speculated that they thought Wyrd was fate itself in one of their reviews. Congratulations to you, SymphoniaFreak, for being so close to his identity.**_

_**Nazo: What do Samael and Psyche have to do with this? They're dead.**_

_**You know the answer to that, Nazo. **_

_**Nazo: Do I really? I question myself a lot around you.**_

_**I AM ENTITLED TO MY SECRETS! And I have my reasons. Never underestimate my twisted mind! I will draw you into a plot so twisted that you will confuse the plot line for a knot!**_

_**Nazo: Aren't you already doing that?**_

_**Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.**_

_**Sorry it was short. This was more of a get-the-annoying-plot-crap-out-of-the-way-so-I-can-start-a-bloodthirsty-rampage-soon chapter. I want my bloodthirsty rampage! I'm not totally satisfied with the way it came out, but I'm too impatient now. **_

_**Please leave a review!**_

_**Nazo: Can I go now?**_


	17. Chapter 17: The Immortal Nightmare

_***evil, manic, demonic grinning* I'm not going to bother with words. I just want to get to the suspense of William FlameSword. **_

_**William: You've been waiting for this for too long, haven't you?**_

_**Yep. Now, anonymous reviews then straight to the fighting.**_

_**No anonymous reviews. How wonderful for me. :)**_

_**William: There's a lot of stuff between here and the fighting, you know.**_

_**Shut up, I still have plot stuff to develop. And background to create, along with personalities to fabricate and a bunch of other stuff.**_

_**William: I'm just saying it's a lot of stuff. Are you sure you'll be able to do this all in one chapter?**_

_**I'M TIRED OF TRIET! I'M ALREADY SPLITTING IT INTO TWO CHAPTERS TO KEEP IT FROM BEING MONSTROUSLY MASSIVE AND I WANT TO GET IT DONE ALREADY! Is that a problem, Mr. FlameSword?**_

_**William: Not at all, I'm just making sure you don't press yourself.**_

_**I'm actually surprised you haven't throttled me yet for taking so long to update lately.**_

_**William: Meh, you managed to get the last chapter and these two up in a decent amount of time. I figured I would give you a break for once. And this time you have a valid reason for taking a while because you were writing two chapters not one. and on top of that, it hasn't been two months since you upoloaded.**_

_**Okay, anyway, on to the chapters! By the way, William, since I separated this into two chapters, you'll be the one with me for both.**_

_**William: Great. I'll go get my earplugs to drown out your insane giggling.**_

_***giggles* Insane giggling? *giggles some more* What are you *giggle* talking about? *deteriorates into full blown maniacal laughter***_

_**William: I'm talking about that. *sigh* I'm not paid enough for this**_

_**I pay you? o.O That wasn't in the contract.**_

_**William: and that's why I'm not paid enough.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 17: The Immortal Nightmare

"So this is the Sealing Chamber," the cloaked man remarked to Raine, looking around. "It is indeed remarkable. The very air is tense with fear of what is sealed. Perhaps these words will allow the secret to be revealed."

"Yes, the air is certainly strained with the presence of that monster being made known. But that is beside the point, Mr. Sojourner," Raine answered, looking at the ancient language with excitement. "Please, translate these writings for us. I simply must know what they say."

They were standing at the entrance to the Sealing Chamber where so many had died. The group had encountered a strange scholar by the name of Bill Sojourner. Though the man seemed rather suspicious, but Raine was more preoccupied with the fact that the tomes he carried were written in the same language as the walls of the room they were now in.

* * *

_The group entered the inn after checking on Robert to make sure that he was fine. He had recovered perfectly fine, the curse of Withering having been completely removed from his body. When he was asked why he didn't try to see if anyone could cure him, a glazed look entered his eyes and he looked away sadly. "I have my reasons. That is all that should be said," he told them._

_As they entered, a man covered head to toe in a desert cloak with only his eyes showing was leaving. Sylpher, who was in the lead, ran right into him, both falling to the ground and the large volumes in the man's arms scattered to the floor. Sylpher jumped up and immediately started apologizing profusely while helping the man to his feet and helping him gather his scattered books. "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't know you were there. Please, forgive me."_

_The man merely laughed in response. "When one is not fully alert, it shows his mind is far from inert. Pay it no mind, boy. I am fine and so are my books, so all is well."_

_Sylpher smiled in relief and reached down to pick up another book when his aunt's hand shot down and grabbed it before him, staring at the open pages in astonishment. "I don't believe it," she said quietly._

"_Is there something you find odd about my book, ma'am?" the scholar asked, his brown eyes filled with curiosity._

_Raine immediately pulled out her notebook from the ruins and started to compare the sketched runes in the pages with the ones that were in the book. They were identical. "This is the same language that is on the walls of the Sealing Chamber in the Triet Ruins. Forgive my forwardness, but can you read this language?" she demanded, her eyes glowing with otherworldly light. _

_The man blinked in surprise. "You mean Ancient Script? Yes, yes I can. Is there something about it that intrigues you, ma'am?" he asked._

* * *

The man had apparently been looking for an escort to the Triet Ruins to examine the strange room himself. He hoped he would be able to aid the researchers there. He was disappointed when he learned of what had happened, but was adamant about going. Apparently he had already set up a request in a guild nearby for escorts.

Raine demanded that the group go with him to learn what the meaning of the Ancient Script within the Sealing Chamber was. Many protested, but she argued that the words most likely held clues as to what the Unborn were up to and knowledge about Death-Demons. Her Ruin mania was a large factor in her desire to go, but she still thought about what was truly important first.

And so, they accompanied him as he traveled to the Sealing Chamber. Much to their surprise, Bill had gone to the Waves of Balacruf for an escort. The only one to answer his contract was one Robert Caston, who once again wore full dragon-hide armor. Apparently he had a back-up set just in case. Though Bill was rather disappointed in only having one person, Robert assured him that he was more than enough protection alone. The group was able to vouch for his abilities and Bill eventually agreed.

Raine and the mysterious scholar went ahead to examine the Ancient Script more closely. Raine had insisted upon Bill teaching her how to read Ancient Script, and after a full day of pestering, Bill finally obliged. The tomes he carried were apparently books of ancient poetry which he had read numerous times, which explained his occasional outbursts of rhyming.

Kratos turned to Robert. "You do not fully trust your client, do you?" he asked as Robert never took his eyes from his charge.

Robert shook his head. "Of course not. Not only does he come out of nowhere after the Unborn raided this place and conveniently know how to read a language that no one even knew existed until a couple weeks ago, but his name is clearly fake. 'Bill Sojourner'? What kind of name is that?"

Kratos nodded in agreement before adding, "He is also wearing an outfit extremely common in the desert. No one could question his appearance in that and Nazo did warn us to be wary of someone dressed in common desert apparel."

Robert snorted. "I'm not taking that bastard's word for anything. But even still, he just doesn't sit right with me. He never takes that cloak off, and he absolutely reeks of incense to the point it's suffocating to be too close to him. That much of anything has to be covering something up." Robert frowned at a recent memory. "Unless he's like that Decus guy, who's just too stupid to realize how bad it really is. I don't think I'll ever get the scent of that crap cologne out of my nose." He shuddered.

Kratos decided not to comment on that. All of that together made "Bill" seem like a very suspicious individual, but not one to warrant overly cautious behavior. However, there was one more thing about Bill that Kratos couldn't get off his mind. His mana signature was clearly human, but it felt… off, somehow. It felt as if the mana Kratos sensed from the man wasn't really his. Kratos kept this to himself, however.

Raine looked down at her notes and did her best to decipher the Ancient Script as Bill calmly mumbled the words to himself under his breath next to her. Bill had loaned her one of his books to practice her understanding of the language and, while it was still strictly rudimentary, she had a basic understanding of the language.

"So, what's the story on these glyphs carved on the walls? Anything interesting?" Genis asked, catching up to the duo.

Raine nodded. "Yes. From what I've managed to translate, it seems to be giving a history of the Death-Demons," she reported.

"That's exactly what I've been reading myself, Miss Sage. I must say, your learning rate is impressive," Bill told his pupil. "However, perhaps I should read everything to you all since you are still a beginner and your reading rate is rather slow. You wished to know what it all says, correct?" he asked, turning to the siblings.

Genis nodded in response before calling everyone else over. After they gathered, Bill began translating the runes aloud, slowly travelling down the wall as he read it aloud. His voice was smooth and easy to listen to, telling the tale upon the walls with the expertise of a seasoned storyteller.

"In a day before history, before this world was made, there existed a being that was outside the bounds of Life and Death. It was a being of nothingness, Uriel Necrid. He had no purpose, unlike the other gods. He could not plan as Wyrd, nor could he create like Psyche, nor could he destroy as Samael.

"As he watched Psyche create her beloved worlds, he felt a pang of longing in his heart as her creations praised her. He felt jealously as Samael spread amongst the mortals, bringing death to them and spreading his influence over Psyche's realm of life. He saw how the mortals feared and respected the God of Death and Destruction. He wanted to feel loved and respected as they were.

"However, he could not create as Psyche could. He could only use the materials created by her and even then his creations were a mockery of life. And even then, he was too weak to gather living matter for himself, and so depended on Samael to bring death to the living so he could use their matter.

"Psyche was not pleased with this mockery of her precious creations. It infuriated her and she demanded that he stop. Samael too was enraged at the overturning of his power. Death was to be the end and Necrid was trampling all over Samael's purpose in existence.

"Necrid was told again and again to stop, but he refused to let up. Eventually, he created others that could raise the dead as well and he began to gain followers among the living. They called Necrid's power Necromancy in honor of him, and they were masters of manipulating the dead.

"Finally, Psyche and Samael could take it no more. Necrid was sentenced to the fragmenting of his corporeal body and the banishment of his soul to a nether realm that was without death, a domain perfect for him to rule over.

"The nine pieces of his body were then scattered across domains of mortals. The damage to the worlds had already been done and the art of Necromancy could never be removed from them, but the powers of the necromancers were greatly diminished with the passing of their god.

"In time, after the murder of Psyche and the execution of Samael the Damned as described by the Lore Keepers of the temples, a being known as Xeralisk emerged. He bore a fraction of Samael the Damned's power and was the one meant to take his place as Death. But Xeralisk was much like his predecessor in that he did not desire life to exist. He scoured the worlds of the mortals for the pieces of Necrid.

"As he gathered the pieces together, he manipulated the power latent within each one and created demons from within them. They bore bits of the power that was their whole, but they were far from complete. Far weaker than the Summon Spirit, Xeralisk subjugated the incarnated beasts and took control of them for his own ends.

"There were eight pieces that he found, and eight creatures that were made. Each had its own element. However, one piece eluded Xeralisk, the ninth and most important piece of Necrid's power: Life.

"Even still, the gods could not ignore the threat of the Death-Demons, as Xeralisk so deemed them. The gods gave humanity a means to seal the beasts away, using crystals embodied with life-essence to form the seal and cast the Death-Demons into a sleep that could only be awakened by one of their own kind, one of the original eight Death-Demons of the eight elements.

"Here is sealed the Death-Demon that was made from the head of Uriel Necrid: the dragon Pyre, the Death-Demon of Fire. The following is a list of his actions and the atrocities he committed. His minions of Pyre-Doulos, Pyre-Soldiers, and Iblis are all reflections of their creator and the deeds they performed were in line with the deeds of their master."

Bill trailed off at that point and looked around at the rest of the walls. "I know the rest by heart. It is long and boring, so allow me to give you all a summary. 'Pyre killed and devoured a lot of people.' He and the others were around for about fifteen hundred years before being sealed away," he reported.

Kratos narrowed his eyes at the scholar. "If this is your first time here, then how do you know the rest by heart?" he demanded.

Bill ignored the seraph and leapt towards the wall with an image of the beast covering it. Everyone was startled as the man covered the distance of at least two hundred feet in a single bound. "The runes of the Cinder Crystals that once resided in this stone made it impossible to awaken the sleeping Death-Demon. They were a powerful barrier until they were broken," he told them.

"You know, it was obvious that you weren't normal to begin with," Thomas said, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Just how long are you going to keep the charade up, Mr. William FlameSword?" Thomas voiced the thoughts in everyone's head. If the man was not human, then it was clear that he was Unborn. And they only knew of one Unborn that was supposed to still be in the area.

"Bill" merely turned and gave the group an appraising look. "I knew you were more clever than most. But you really aren't one to boast. My simple trick fooled every one of you, after all. I had thought it was one for which nobody would fall," William sneered. Everyone drew their weapons but William gestured with his hand and a wall of flames encircled them, preventing their approach towards the Unborn King.

"Simmer down now, there is more I must tell you. Allow me to give you a little lesson in seals. If the gods really didn't want the Death-Demons to awaken, then why go through the trouble of putting a condition for which the seal could be broken?" he asked calmly.

Raine glared at the man, confused by his actions. She answered cautiously, "Because, sealing magic is just like the lock on a door. Just as every lock is meant to open, every seal is meant to be undone."

"Correct!" William shouted, bringing his hand to wipe away something from his eyes. The chocolaty brown irises had turned to a garish red with draconic pupils. When William next spoke, his voice held the tell-tale crackle of a fire. "They were forced to. And so, to ensure the Death-Demons' eternal sealing, the gods made the condition of their awakening to be that it must be performed by one of the original eight Death-Demons. This way, even if a Death-Demon of Life emerged, it could never hope to awaken its brethren!"

"And no doubt you'll soon be telling us what this has to do with the current situation," Robert sighed. "I swear. Do evil people feel the need to gloat over their own victories all the time? I mean, we're on a silver platter and you're still not killing us. That's the downfall of every villain, you know. They always feel the need to gloat." Robert smirked.

Sylvia looked at him, annoyed. "Why the hell are you lecturing him on what to do? If this keeps up we might actually be able to do something! Now he's probably going to kill us since you told him that!" she yelled at the tall man.

William laughed, loudly and heartily at Robert's words. "Your words are true, Robert Caston. If I am your foe I should kill you right now. But it's been a long time since I could chat with someone like this. To be honest, I prefer settling things diplomatically. Since most of my close companions either bear a… small grudge against me, are too arrogant to be around, or are just focused on screwing with everyone, it's difficult to just sit down and talk to them."

"So instead you're going to bore your enemies to death with talking, huh? Great plan," Genis said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

William closed his eyes contentedly. "Yes, I suppose I am," he answered. "But I must admit, it is nice to have such witty people as you to talk to. And nothing is better than having a-" William chuckled darkly, "-captive audience."

"So, if no one is able to break the seal, why are you standing here chatting with us about all this?" Lloyd asked, relaxing his guard slightly as their opponent didn't seem to want to attack any time soon.

William's eyes grew sad. "Let me tell you a different tale from the last one. This one is a little harder for me to tell, as it is rather… sentimental to me."

William turned around to stare at the massive effigy of the Death-Demon of Fire. "Near the end of his reign of terror, Pyre attacked a large village at the base of an extinct volcano. It was there that the beginnings of his sealing took place. After leaving the village for fear of being sealed forever, a woman who was pregnant survived the assault. As the villagers rebuilt, she went into labor.

"What she gave birth to, however, was a monstrosity. Everyone feared the child as it bore the features of a dragon but was still bound in human form. Unable to kill the child herself, the mother left the baby stranded on the side of the volcano, known as the Mountain Ash."

Lloyd tilted his head confused. "Is that kid-"

"Don't spoil it!" William shouted, the fires rising and heat intensifying from his rage. "I don't care if you can guess what the whole point of this tale is, let me finish my story. It's not often I tell it, so be grateful that I'm telling it to you as a final courtesy!"

The fires calmed back down to a hindering blaze instead of a roaring fire. Sylpher smirked, unable to keep himself from teasing William now that he knew what his freak-out button was. "You know, you could save us all a lot of time by just admitting that you're-"

The fire surged once more and the look within William's eyes was enough to convince the pink-haired teen to shut up. He raised his hands defensively, "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll shut up."

William breathed deeply and the fires calmed once more with the one that brought them about. "Now, as I was saying, the child was left to die on the slopes of the Mountain Ash.

"The Mountain Ash was inhospitable, but the child survived and grew stronger. The village at the base of the extinct volcano grew until it eventually became a city. The child grew as well, and over the years, he became known as the Demon of the Mountain Ash.

"Anyway, the Demon of the Mountain Ash was hunted and hated by humanity. Except for one person, who managed to look past the outer shell of a monster and see that the so-called 'demon' was nothing more than a creature that was terrified of being feared."

"Allow me to summarize the rest of your stupid story," Sylpher said, unable to take listening to the story when he knew where it was heading. "The person was a girl and followed the cliché of the two falling in love. The 'Demon of the Mountain Ash' and the woman he loved faced the world until one day the woman died, leaving the Demon sad and alone. And after- Dear Martel! Don't kill me!"

Sylpher cut himself off in fear as a sword of fire flew directly at him. Sylpher ducked, barely avoiding the attack, though it managed to catch his bandanna on fire. He whipped the bandanna off his head and threw it on the ground, stomping the flame out and looking sadly at the ruined piece of headwear.

"DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO MOCK ME!" William screeched, his crackling voice echoing like the thunder of an explosion. "DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO TELL A TALE YOU'VE NEVER HEARD! You filthy humans and elves and half-elves think you know everything, BUT YOU DON'T!" William's rage caused the group to quail in fear, all of them growing silent at his outburst. Bits of his clothing caught fire as the flames encircling the group spread out to most of the room before he took several deep breaths, calming the raging inferno that threatened to bake them all alive. He patted the fires on him out as if they were nothing more than annoying gnats before he recomposed himself.

"Part of what you say is true: the demon and the woman fell in love. The woman eventually convinced the demon to occasionally visit the city in disguise.

"The citizens of the city discovered the woman's relationship with the demon. They forced her to lead them to his lair, where his food source, the Blood Fruit Tree, resided. Fortunately, the demon was gone at the time. They burned the Blood Fruit Tree and left, devastating the demon upon his return to his home.

"The demon needed the Blood Fruit Tree for a single purpose: he could not survive without consuming human flesh and blood. The Blood Fruit Tree provided a fruit that simulated these things, allowing the demon to survive without having to kill anyone. Despite what the city folk believed, the demon had never harmed a single person.

"Worried about his love, the demon donned his disguise and went to the city. He arrived in time to watch his love burn at the stake for 'being a witch conspiring the destruction of all with the Demon of the Mountain Ash'." William practically spat that last bit. He glared at the group. "Do you know what he did?" he asked.

"Two hundred Gald says he went berserk," Sylpher called out.

"Wrong." Sylpher, along with everyone else, blinked in surprise at the answer. "The demon merely crawled back to his lair and curled into a ball before mourning his loss. It was then that he snapped. He bided his time, working on a project for his revenge."

William clenched his fists above himself, his entire outfit bursting into flame. "As you've already guessed, I was that demon," He said, his voice getting louder as he continued. "I was enraged by my loss. I was tired of Fate conspiring to make me miserable. I was a 'demon' and hunted because of it!" Bits of burning cloth fell from William's form, leaving a humanoid figure beneath that was still wreathed in flame. The inferno obscured the figure beneath, though his eyes and mouth were still clearly visible.

The fire around the group died as the fire around William grew in intensity. A devilish grin filled with teeth was plastered on his face. "They made me out to be a monster, A DEMON! But I showed them. I showed them what a real demon could be. I SHOWED THEM THE WRATH OF THE BEAST THAT THEY HAD AWOKEN!" The fire reached a crescendo as fiery mana burst forth from William. His mana signature changed to part human, part something unnamable, and part mana of the Unborn.

William stretched out his hand and a pillar of fire gushed forth to collide with the stone above the entrance, the intense heat melting the stone. The molten rock fell down and covered the entrance, sealing them in. Finally, the fire died to reveal the beast that was beneath the cloak. William pulled the false flesh-mask from his face to reveal that the healthy skin beneath what little the cloak didn't cover was a lie. Everyone gagged at the sight and those unable to handle the sight promptly bent over and threw up. The sudden stench of fire and brimstone didn't help to ease their stomachs.

William stood a few inches taller than most men, his demonic grin and dragon eyes gleaming in the red glow of the ruins. He had hair that was as red as the fire he wielded, but it was in small tufts and patches upon his head. Dragon-like wings stretched out behind him, flexing after being curled around his body so fit within the cloak. A long tail twice as long as he was tall was wrapped around his waist, slowly unwinding in its newfound freedom of movement. But that is not what made William's figure so disturbing.

Every inch of his skin, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, was charred and blackened. Muscle and bone beneath the burnt skin was clearly visible, functioning as if there was nothing wrong with its owner's skin. In the torso, internal and vital organs were visible, operating normally. William's eyes were lidless and staring, almost falling out of his charred skull. His crooked, carnivorous teeth were visible throughout his mouth. What little lips he had were not enough to suppress the horrid sight. Every swish of the tail sent the muscles beneath twitching sickeningly. The wings had less of a membrane and more of a charred stretch of skin across them.

"I am William FlameSword, Leader of the Elemental Four, and the Son of Pyre. I am the Immortal Nightmare, the Fourth King of the Unborn, and the Wielder of Hell's Fire!" William said, his eyes latched onto them.

Everyone was trying to settle their stomachs at the appearance of the son of a Death-Demon. "A horrid sight, isn't it?" he said, gesturing to his body. "This wretched corpse that refuses to die. There is nothing more disgusting than something that should have long since slipped into death but somehow continues to cling to the wretched life it holds."

Lloyd forced himself to look at the charred monster standing before them. "What… What are you?" he managed to choke out between his fights to reign in control of his stomach.

William sighed. "I thought that was obvious by now. I am a DEMON! While I was in my mother's womb, I was exposed to the twisted mana of Pyre. The mana was so strong it altered my very being, adapting to cope with the monstrous entity that threatened it. I am the son of Pyre, and I am the only one capable of awakening the Death-Demons!"

"Why… Why did you tell us all of that? Surely you didn't have to go through all that trouble just to explain that," Genis hacked.

William was thoughtful. "No, I did not. But, it has been so long since I told anyone. Perhaps I felt that you deserve to at least know about the one that will soon kill you. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside my mind, I still have a conscience. Perhaps I still have a tiny fragment of myself that is desperately trying to cling to the promise I made all those years ago."

William began to slowly walk towards them. "Perhaps I wanted to tell someone of my sins. All I know is that I had to tell you these things. No one will listen to my stories anymore. For old times' sake, I wanted to tell just one more."

William began to giggle to himself absently as he approached. "Do you want to see my vengeance? To know the source of humanity's penance? Do you want to know what my madness drove me to? Do you think you can understand the hells I've been through?" William reached behind his back with both hands. From between his wings he pulled two swords that were far from normal.

In his right hand, William held a three-foot long blade of flesh. Around the edge of the blade the flesh was peeled back to reveal the glint of steel, but otherwise it had no sign of anything supporting its form. Eyes covered the sword, unblinking, glaring accusingly at everything around them as if it was everything else's fault that they were part of the abomination. The hilt was stiff and unchanging beneath its wielder's hand, but everywhere else it continued to shift and move as if the flesh it was made of was alive.

In his left William carried a sword that was the exact opposite. It was as white as bones and firm throughout its entire shape. Holes varying in size from a dime to half an inch in diameter dotted the weapon. From these holes, the inside of the sword was visible. Bone marrow filled the inside, still a rich red as it continued to produce blood cells. A slow, sluggish trickle of the crimson fluid eternally poured from these holes.

"These are Flesh and Bone, the weapons I made from the humans I killed as I waited for the time to exact my revenge," William explained.

The group slowly fought to rise to their feet. They fought back terror as the grotesque monstrosity slowly approached them. William crossed his arms over his chest in an 'X' formation.

"With Love, I buried my love," he said, sweeping Flesh away from his body slowly to hold it out behind him. "With my love, I buried Love." William mirrored the motion with Bone.

Lloyd threw himself at the demon. William reacted quickly, his blades blocking Lloyd's in a test of strength. "With a demon, they showed me hatred." William droned. His tail wrapped around Lloyd's foot and pulled it out from under him. Lloyd gave a shout as he was thrown behind the demon and landed hard on his back. William turned to face his opponent. "With hatred, I showed them a demon."

William let his wings fan out behind him as he slowly walked towards his prey. His tail whipped up and came between his torso and the Flamberge as Kratos tried to take advantage of William turning his back. William cocked his head slightly to glance behind him. "With Death, I bear my sin." William lashed out with a roundhouse kick, catching Kratos in the side of the head. None of them had gotten completely used to William's sickening appearance and their reflexes were suffering for it. It was clear why he was called a demon.

"With my sin," William touched his blades together and stretched himself into a battle-ready stance, his blades over his head. His eyes showed the calm that had settled over the King. "I will bear my death. Come, my cleansing flames will purge your stained existence from this mortal plane!"

Everyone stood stock still with their weapons raised defensively. William remained in his crouched position with his swords raised over his head. No one moved. No one dared to start the fight.

William flicked his gaze to every opponent he was faced with. His heart was beating in excitement. He knew of their accomplishments. He wanted to test them.

On some unspoken command, Lloyd, Kratos, and Presea all charged William. The demon blocked the seraph and lumberjack's attacks with his swords and leapt out of the way of Lloyd's Fierce Demon Fang.

Robert was waiting for William and slashed his scythe across William's chest. But the King was ready for such an attack. William ducked under the blow and whipped the berserker across his face with his tail. "The scythe is a very potent weapon. However its weight makes it easily classified as a heavy weapon, which means that fighting styles with it are full of openings," William lectured as Robert was sent crashing to the ground.

Sylpher dove into the fight, slamming his ax into the ground in front of William. Frost crept over the ground for an instant before sharp icicles sprang from the ground to impale William. "Icicle Ax!"

William leapt out of the way of the attacking ice only to go straight into Thomas. William easily blocked Thomas's sword and countered with a roundhouse kick into the teen's gut. William's kick had so much force behind the kick it sent Thomas flying over into the wall several yards away.

A large field of frost surrounded William as the temperature began to drop drastically. "Absolute!" Genis cast. The titatnic icicle burst into existence before shattering spectacularly. Much to everyone's shock, William was nowhere to be seen when the icy mist cleared.

"That was rather close," the voice like fire mused above them. Everyone looked up in shock to see William airborne. "I must admit, I do not mix well with cold."

Sylvia smirked, seeing her chance. "This might tingle a lot," she taunted before unleashing her spell. "Lightning Rod!" The metallic rod of mana rose from the ground far beneath William. The King just wondered what it was supposed to do before the reason became apparent as a stream of lightning flowed down into it with William caught in the middle.

William was forced to land as the electricity caused his muscles to spasm uncontrollably, making it impossible for him to maintain being airborne. Lloyd and Colette were on the man in an instant. They began to relentlessly hammer the king with artes and attacks, not letting have enough space to breathe. William dodged or blocked each and every single strike.

Raine frowned as she watched the man fight. _Is this really it? _She wondered silently. _I thought he was supposed to be strong. He's been on the defensive the entire time except for the start of the battle and, while we haven't gotten any significant hits in yet, he hasn't landed a single blow either. In fact, I haven't seen him even use any artes._

Despite the fact that their opponent was so easily countering them, the husband-and-wife duo was undaunted and continued to press their advantage. Then both jumped back from the demon as a massive orb of light mana formed above William. "Ray!" Raine announced, unleashing the powerful light magic.

William screeched in pain and put his arms over his eyes just before the orb began to unleash it's spattering of light beams. The demon disappeared for an instant as one engulfed him, but he emerged mostly unscathed. Robert, Kratos, and Sylpher all went forward to occupy the dual swordsman.

Genis frowned. He muttered to himself, "Why did he cover his eyes and screech before the attack landed?" A hypothesis drifted into his mind, but it would need confirmation. He turned to his sister. "Raine, can you hit him with Photon? I think I know a weak point," he asked of her. Raine nodded and prepared said spell.

William lashed out with his tail and wrapped it around Robert's foot before launching him over his head to barrel into Kratos. Sylpher let out a mighty war cry before bringing his ax down with all his strength As Thomas and Presea went to take the place of the mercenary and Seraph.

"Ready? Photon!" Raine cast. The three attacking William backed off enough to avoid the spell. As the ball of light appeared in front of William, the demon hissed and covered his eyes to protect them. AS the spell continued, William was visibly suppressing a screech of pain.

_Yes! He can't stand light._ Genis shouted victoriously in his head. "He doesn't have any eyelids, so he can't close his eyes to protect them from the harsh light! We can use this," he announced, making sure he wasn't loud enough for William to hear.

"I see, that makes sense," Raine said. A smirk adorned her face as he turned to her brother. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked him.

"You bet I am. Let's go!" he shouted as the two began to work together to manipulate mana in a two-person spell.

Sylvia waited for the moment right before the spell was complete before warning the frontline fighters. "Everyone, get back, you don't want to be caught in the joint-spell!" Everyone immediately retreated a safe distance from William. William merely swore violently to himself and tried to make it to the Sage siblings before they could finish the spell.

He had taken no more than two steps before numerous orbs of light began to form around him. "Prism Stars!" Genis and Raine said together. William screeched once more and dropped his swords so he could properly cover his eyes to protect them from the overwhelming influx of light.

The spell pelted him from every direction. The charred half-demon had no choice but to desperately try to save his eyesight, ignoring the wounds the spell was inflicting. They were shallow, but the problem was their number.

As the spell ended, William uncovered his eyes to be greeted by the sight of Presea coming at her with her ax from the front. As she plunged her weapon into the body of the Unborn King, her son did the same with his own in the man's back. Before the half-human could recover, they leapt out of the way for Kratos to deliver a deep wound from his right shoulder to his left hip. Thomas followed up the seraph with a sword thrust through the man's gut. Robert attempted to reap William's head off his shoulders from behind, but the mercenary's scythe was caught on one of his prey's neck vertebrae and instead merely gave him a deep neck wound. Lloyd ended the onslaught by jumping down on the King, his sword plunging directly into the Unborn's eye and sinking in about four inches.

Everyone relaxed as they saw William's body slump at the end of Lloyd's sword. Lloyd let go of his blade and the dead King fell to the ground, the sword that dealt the killing blow still lodged in his eye.

The fight with the King was over.

Thomas blinked at William's dead corpse. "Is it just me, or was that way too easy?"

"Are we really sure that this was William FlameSword?" Genis asked.

"I doubt it!" Robert laughed. "Nazo made that guy out to be tough as hell. This guy went down in two minutes flat."

"He did exhibit an unusual amount of control over fire, so that matches what we were told about his abilities," Kratos answered.

Raine held her hand to her chin in thought. "Well, he didn't use any artes or spells," she commented. "It is entirely possible that he underestimated us. He was most likely holding back a lot because he didn't consider us much of a threat."

"Still, I'm not sure if that was really William FlameSword. After all, he went down way too easi-… -ly…" Genis trailed off. His face paled and his mouth dropped open in shock. He answered everyone's curious looks with a finger pointing to William's not-so-dead corpse, Lloyd's sword still protruding from his eye.

The half-demon glanced over at them with a bored look as he used magic to seal the wound on his neck shut. "I suppose you thought this would kill me," He said nonchalantly after finishing with his neck. "If something this minor could kill me, then I would have died a long time ago." He pulled the sword out of his eye and threw it to the ground at Lloyd's feet.

"_Minor_?" Sylpher asked in disbelief.

William growled and stretched, his bones creaking loudly in protest. He popped his neck and retrieved his weapons from where they lay. "I've had every inch of my body charred beyond recognition in a fire so hot it could make Hell look like a summer's day. I've lived for over sixty millennia with the aforementioned charred skin. I've been crucified with every inch of my body flayed to the bone. None of those managed to kill me, so if something like being stabbed through the eye, a half-severed neck, and a few cuts on my chest and back was enough to kill me, then that would be a sad end in comparison."

Raine shook her head in horror. "No one could possibly survive all of those ordeals. It's true the Unborn are harder to kill than normal humans, but that kind of punishment is inhumane," she said.

William shook his head sadly. "There is a reason I am called the Immortal Nightmare. Out of all the Unborn, I am the only one who has never tasted death. No matter what happens to me I am still alive. After all, I am a demon," William told them.

Lloyd shook his head, steely determination shining in his eyes. "If we can't kill you, then that means we'll just have to beat you until you can't move," he declared, picking up his sword and holding it at the ready.

William gave Lloyd a peculiar look before throwing his head back a laughing jubilantly. "What wonderful determination!" he praised. "Such fire in your eyes; such conviction in your heart! Only a warrior of the highest caliber could possibly continue to fight in the face of impossible odds!"

A low growl resonated from the Unborn's throat as he hungrily licked his teeth. "Now, let's fight for real. I'll do my best to leave you all alive. You all," he glanced at each of them in turn, "intrigue me."

"For some reason, I'm more worried than before," Sylvia said, a shiver running down her spine.

William raised his swords above his head once more before jerking them down, fire erupting around his being. "Magma Skin!" he announced as the fire continued to intensify until it liquidized into magma, forming a layer of burning skin around his body. The boiling molten rock even provided a pair of eyelids. "Come. My hunger demands satisfaction."

/\/\/\/\/\

_**William: you know, for someone who rushed through the last chapter to get to the gore and bloodshed, you seem pretty content with this bunch of filler.**_

_**I actually care about your past. Is that a problem? **_

_**William: then why did they keep interrupting me?**_

_**Because it's boring for such a massive block of one person talking to be in a story. Plus, it's comic relief. I'm making sure no one forgets that William is the enemy and he literally has a captive audience. **_

_**I'm also glad I didn't post this chapter when I had it done. I made a lot of changes between this one and the next. I'm now satisfied with the result.**_

_**William: Why am I pouring my heart out to them anyway?**_

_**Because beneath the burning, demonic, extra-crispy exterior you're really just a big softie who wants a friend and a hug.**_

_**William: …What?**_

_**How do you like your makeover?**_

_**William: You're trying to change the subject.**_

_**Indeed. Though I really am curious as to your opinion. Do you like it? I worked hard on it. **_

_**William: It is a little more fitting for someone who calls himself a demon. **_

_**Excellent. Next Chapter, ho!**_

_**William: You still haven't explained what you meant earlier! Hey, get back here!**_


	18. Chapter 18:The Nightmare Feast

_**Second part of the end of Triet. Let's get started, shall we?**_

_**William: and so the fight begins.**_

_**Wait, there's a fight in this chapter? All I had planned was a one-sided beat down. Then, after that, there is going to be a full-on massacre.**_

_**William: I was trying to be nice. Now, tell me what you meant by what you said last chapter.**_

_**I said a lot of things last chapter.**_

_**William: you know what I'm talking about.**_

_**Anyway, let's get on to the story!**_

_**William: Stop avoiding my question, dammit!**_

_***WARNING* this chapter contains scenes which may be unsuitable for younger audiences and those with weak constitutions. Upon reaching the section where William reaches Triet reader discretion is advised. If you feel the need, do not hesitate to skip to the next chapter break. Scenes such as this will NOT be a regular occurrence throughout this story.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 18: The Nightmare Feast

William lunged at them all, restarting the fight on the offensive. Lloyd went out to meet him, but was shocked to find that every time William's swords made contact with something solid, a small, explosive burst of fire mana shot from the weapons. Lloyd quickly started to dodge every blow he could, knowing that to block would be to invite defeat.

A trail of fire burned the air behind his sword as William roared and gave a mighty swing. Lloyd had no time to dodge and was forced to block. The burst of fire knocked Lloyd's swords away from his body, leaving him wide open. William then delivered a roundhouse kick to the face and sent Lloyd flying through the air, only for William's tail to catch him by the neck and slam him to the ground forcefully. As the dust cleared, Lloyd was seen sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.

Without giving the group time to process what had happened, William shot forward, a jet of fire shooting from his back to propel him forward even faster. He shot by everyone only to run a tight circle around the Raine, Genis, Sylvia, and Colette. As he ran, a trail of fire was left in his wake. After a full circuit, he skidded to a halt beside the circle. "Flare Tornado," He announced, his tone almost bored. A whirlwind of fire erupted into life within the flaming circle.

As those within the spell did their best to protect themselves, William hunched over, his wings wrapping around his body. "Burn," he snarled, rearing back, arms and wings spread wide as fire mana poured out of him. It gathered above the tornado of fire into a massive sphere of flames. Burning red runes circled around the sphere before they locked into place. The sphere flashed and a column of fire gushed forth from its depths just as the Flare Tornado died down. "Crimson Flare!"

Everyone opened their eyes in shock at what had just happened. Slowly, the spell faded, and it showed that all of those who had been caught in the inferno were alive, but just barely. William, however, did not stop to admire his work. He launched himself at Sylpher, who just barely managed to put a guard up in time, though it was just swatted away like nothing. William carved an "X" into Sylpher's chest before raising his wings and blasting a wave of burning cinders at him. "Searing Cinders!"

Kratos and Thomas rushed the demon as Sylpher was knocked back and fell to the ground, out of the fight. William danced between their blades, twisting and snaking around them before he slipped behind their guards and knocked Thomas off balance with an elbow to the face. He then focused on Kratos. "Ember Dance!" he cried as he unleashed a series of fire mana- imbued attacks. He flowed from one strike to the next, knocking the seraph off-balance before managing to land a thrust into Kratos's gut. William followed it up with two horizontal slashes and spun around, grabbing Kratos with his tail and slamming him into the ground, causing the violet-garbed angel to black out.

Thomas, having recovered, let out a shout and unleashed a vicious onslaught of attacks and artes, William dancing around and dodging every blow by a hair's breadth. "You have potential, but you're still far too slow, boy," William chastised. "You manage to keep yourself from broadcasting your movements too much, which is good. I am sure you have trained long and hard. However, someone like me who has fought for millennia can still foresee your attacks with enough time to dodge them. You are not able to defeat me."

"We'll see about that," Thomas responded, panting as he tried to keep up the pace.

William sighed. He ducked under one blow and slipped his foot behind Thomas's before tripping the teen up. He let out a series of blows before kicking Thomas to land next to the burnt body of his mother. Thomas cursed as he felt his consciousness fading.

"For the record, I could have done that at any time," William told the teenager. He then turned to the last one of them standing. Robert stood off to the side. He had his scythe down and was standing normally, anger and sorrow in his eyes. William smiled and beckoned him forward. "Don't you want to join in the fun, berserker?"

Robert sighed and put his weapon away. "I know when I'm beaten. My combat style has too many holes in it for someone like you. The only reason I was able to do anything before was because you were holding back. Now, I can't beat you. If my Master taught me anything, it's that wisdom without courage is pointless, but courage without wisdom is stupidity."

William cocked his head to the side. "And what makes you so sure that I will not kill you anyway?"

"You didn't kill any of them. Sure, the ones hit by your spells are hurt pretty bad, but they'll live as long as they receive medical attention within the next couple of days. Everyone else has serious injurires, but none of them are life threatening. Plus, you said that you would leave us alive. And, if I'm not mistaken, you were actually giving advice to some of us during the fight."

William lifted his head in respect. "I see, the anger in your eyes is not for me and the sorrow is not for your comrades. Rather, the sorrow is for your inability to do anything of significance in this situation and the anger is at yourself for not being strong enough to help." William narrowed his magma-lidded eyes. "Your reaction intrigues me all the more."

Robert shifted, resisting the urge to draw his scythe once more at the way William was looking at him. "Is it safe to assume that you will allow me to retrieve my allies and leave this place without you chasing after us?" Robert asked.

William nodded in response. "As long as I have your word that you will not interfere with my mission. I will even reopen the way out for you," He told Robert.

Robert held out his hand. "Deal," he said.

William smiled and dispelled his coating of magma. He gripped Robert's hand and shook. Robert raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem very worried that I'm going to double cross you," he observed.

William answered calmly, "If you were to try and attack me with my back turned then I would be able to pick it up and counter attack. Plus, you seem honest and sincere in your desire to retreat." William reached towards the entrance and sent another stream of fire into the wall, melting it away completely and leaving a hole large enough for people to pass through comfortably. "Gather your friends and leave. If you are still here when Pyre awakens, I cannot guarantee your safety."

Robert turned to do just that, but he stopped and turned to William. "Just because I'm not fighting now, doesn't mean I don't want to. You're right when you say my fighting style is full of holes. Something tells me I can't rely on my armor forever, so I've made a decision. I'll develop a new fighting style, and when I do, I'll be more than happy to fight you." With that said, Robert began to cart everyone outside of the ruins while William approached the drawing of Pyre.

He paused before the wall and the strangely friend-like nature of their conversation struck him. It almost felt like he… No, that was impossible. William shook his head, writing it up to his blasted kindness that he still clung to somewhat. He returned his focus to his objective.

William stared at the relief carving for several minutes wondering what to do. He held out his hand and placed it upon the stone. He gasped as knowledge flowed into his body and he instinctively pulled back his hand. Panting slightly, he clutched his wrist and glanced up at the mural. "I see. You truly are a monster," he murmured to himself. He clenched his fist and let out a small snarl. "Personally, I wish Xeralisk left me out of this. Ultimately, he is responsible for my entire life as he created you, but you played a much more direct role in my creation. When you awaken, you will receive no love or adoration from me, Father."

He placed his hand on the stone once more and focused. He could feel the knowledge of how to undo the seal flowing into his mind. A stream of unintelligible words flowed from his mouth. The minutes turned to hours as the words seemed to run on endlessly without any signs of stopping.

Finally, the words ended and everything remained silent. William frowned. Nothing was happening. "Did I really just say several hours' worth of gibberish just to make myself look like a fool?" he asked no one in particular. Silence continued to reign within the ruins. William sighed. "At least Telarra's not here. I can only imagine what she would be saying through her laughter right now."

William grumbled to himself as he tried to figure out what to do. He was supposed to be able to undo the seal. The problem was, he didn't know how. "Ah, screw it," he growled after several moments of wracking his brain for an answer. He pulled out his swords and wrapped himself in a raging inferno. "I am William FlameSword, child of the Death-Demon of Fire. I command you, Pyre, my father, WAKE UP!"

The reaction was similar to the long string of nonsense he spewed earlier.

William sighed in defeat and let the fire die around him. "Well, it was worth a shot," he muttered. "Not that I thought it would work in the first place."

Suddenly, a massive yawn filled the air. **"Why must everything be so loud? I was having the most wonderful nap,"** a voice that burned into William's mind like a fire blazing through the forest underbrush said.

William froze in shock. He blinked a couple of times and checked his ears. He looked up at the carving of the dragon to see it yawning and looking from side to side tiredly. _'Seriously? That actually worked?'_ he thought to himself. _'All I did was yell really loudly. No wonder the gods put the Cinder Crystals to add to the seal, their first seal sucked!'_

The massive dragon-beast yawned once more then moved to look down at William. **"Oh, my. It seems Father Xeralisk is neglecting his duty a bit if he is allowing this walking piece of charcoal to continue to draw breath. I daresay that it is miraculous that the thing can even stand up."** Pyre said. William remained frozen in place, still in awe at how simple it had been to actually wake him up. **"Perhaps I spoke too soon? He does not seem to be cowering from me and I can't quite tell if he is moving or not. Mayhaps he is a statue?"**

William shook himself out of his stupor and then glared at the massive fire demon. "I would probably be less inclined to stare like a fool if you would climb out of that wall, Pyre," William said.

"**My, how rude! I do believe you should at least apologize for waking me up. I was having the most marvelous dream. I was in a city and-"**

"Yeah, yeah, killing people, devouring souls, warping the DNA of children still in the womb, and making everyone's lives hell in general," William growled. "I don't really care. Now, as the Fourth King of the Unborn and someone who's life you destroyed without even realizing it, I command you to come out of that stupid wall, you overgrown lizard!"

Pyre blinked. **"Fourth King? The Unborn? You mean to tell me Father Xeralisk acquired more of those human lackeys alongside that freak of nature and his son? What was his name again? Sambiza? Sandasi? Zimbabwe?"**

William growled. "As entertaining as it is to hear you mumble incoherently, old timer, I'm really not in the mood to hear it. If you don't get out of that wall right now, I'm going to smash it and tell Xeralisk that I couldn't wake you up."

Pyre huffed in annoyance. **"Foolish brat! Who are you to order me around! Do you realize who I am? I am-"**

"Pyre, the Death-Demon of Fire, the one who altered my DNA with his mere presence when I was still in my mama's womb thus making you my technical father. I know all that crap already, now just get out here!"

Pyre huffed once more, but obliged. The living relief carving seemed to stalk towards the edge of the wall, before his body began to pull itself out of it entirely, revealing the monster in all its horrid beauty.

Crimson red scales covered every inch of the enormous dragon's body, save for its wings and a portion of its jaw. The wings had a thin, crimson membrane stretched across them, the boiling blood visibly pumping through the veins within the membrane. As for the portion of its jaw, there was no flesh. The bare bone was revealed as its entire bottom-right jaw, not a scale or scrap of flesh or muscle in sight. The dragon itself was enormous, its spine-covered body taking up almost the entire sealing chamber.

William hissed in relief. "Finally, you're out. You're no doubt hungry, as am I. What say you to going to get a bite to eat?"

"**First you rouse me from a wonderful dream, then you insult me, then demand that I exit my resting place, and now you are offering to help me find food to sate my ravenous hunger? You make no sense, little matchstick."**

"Call me that again, and I will kill you. Times have changed since you went to sleep roughly sixty-nine thousand years ago, Pyre. You're now only the Fifth Lord, number ten on Xeralisk's chain of command. I, however, am the Fourth King, making me fourth in command. I outrank and overpower you. And to be quite honest, I didn't want to wake you up in the first place."

"**I feel that it will be tiresome for me to ask but, I daresay I will anyway."**

"If you didn't hear me before, I'm your bastard child formed from the manipulation of DNA of an unborn baby by your unstable, demonic mana. My life has been worse than Hell because of you and the only reason I bothered to come out here was because Xeralisk gave me a direct order. Now, are we going to go eat or not? I know a wonderful town nearby where we can gorge ourselves to our content."

Pyre slowly blinked in confusion. **"I have a child… though the definition is somewhat stretched in this sense. It is strange, I thought I was only capable of wanton destruction."**

"You are," William assured him. "You wantonly destroyed my entire freaking life. And you were never there to begin with. Now can we please get out of here?"

Pyre nodded. **"Yes, I believe I am prepared. Climb upon my back, my child, and lead me to where our banquet awaits."** He said. He let out a pleased rumble. **"I daresay it will take some getting used to calling a being as small and human-shaped as you my child."**

"Don't try to get all father-son bonding moment on me, you stupid dragon. Since you're obviously missing the not-so-subtle hints, I'll tell you outright: You ruined my life; I despise you for it." William snarled as he climbed onto Pyre's back.

"**Very well, King, very well. I will refer to you with your given name. And if I may ask, if you are my child, then why does your skin look like it went through the fires of Hell and somehow managed to come back in any shape or form relative to that of skin?"**

William felt something inside himself snap slightly at that point. He scowled so heavily it would have given Kratos's scowl a run for its money. He was tired of talking to the beast. "It's a very long, very _boring_ story. I doubt you'd be interested, and I doubt you really care. Now, just get us out of here and head north. There is a city in the desert there called Triet. That is where we will go."

"**Very well, my child, I will allow you to keep your secrets for now. But know that I will one day get you to tell me of what happened."**

William's scowl deepened further. "I told you not to call me your son. My name is William."

* * *

Robert sighed as he waited for his companions to wake. It had been several hours since he finished and William was still spouting off some crap in a bizarre tongue when he had last entered the sealing chamber. He had applied what medical attention he could to those who needed it the most and night had fallen while he was waiting for them to wake up.

"If you all are waiting for me to get tired of waiting for you to wake up and drag each of you to Triet, that's not happening anytime this week," he grumbled, impatiently sharpening the blade of his scythe.

"But that sure would save us a lot of pain," Sylvia said, stirring slightly. She moaned from the pain caused by her burns. "Could you at least drag me there? I don't wanna move."

"Hey, sis, I'm supposed to be the lazy one," Sylpher mumbled, rolling over. He blearily looked around. "When did we get outside?" he asked dumbly.

Robert sighed. "I dragged you out here after striking a deal with the FlameSword guy. And for the love of Martel, please tell me that you weren't actually waiting for me to decide to drag you to Triet."

"Nope, just awesome timing on our part," Sylpher assured. He crawled to his feet, clutching at his bandaged chest. He looked around to see everyone else still unconscious. "Hey, Sylvia, think you can use some of your healing magic on these guys to wake them up faster?" he asked.

"I still don't wanna move."

"I'm moving, and like I said before: stop being lazy! That's my job!"

"Shut up, Sylpher! You weren't the one caught in a giant pillar of fire!"

Raine groaned, clutching her head. "Both of you shut up! You're giving me a headache!" she yelled. The twins immediately stopped talking at the command of their aunt. "Now, before we do anything else, Sylvia, heal me up first then help me with the rest. It seems that whatever Robert has done, William will not chase us."

A short while later, everyone had been healed for the most part: Lloyd was suffering from a small case of memory loss from William slamming his head into the ground so hard. After giving him a quick recap of events, they began to discuss their next move.

Before they could discuss much, a massive roar broke the silence of the night. The ground heaved and rumbled. Before a massive crimson dragon burst from the ruins and flew off into the air, heading north.

"That's… where Triet is!" Colette gasped.

Robert let out a stream of curses as the implications of that monster heading towards a city sank in. He hadn't realized the first thing the beast would do would be to raze a city. Everyone immediately began to hurry off to Triet, knowing they were already far too late.

* * *

William smiled sadistically as he gazed upon the city that would soon be naught but a memory. He felt steaming saliva drip from his fangs in anticipation of the feast he would soon be gorging himself upon.

He slowly stalked to the guards of the gate. He relished their looks of fear and their shrieks of terror as they saw him and the monstrous shadow that followed him. William stopped before the gate and slowly turned to glare at the nearest guard.

The young man, barely out of his teens, shook violently. He let out a terrified yell that was halfway between a woman's and a little girl's before he drew his sword and attacked the demon that stood before him.

William easily dodged the attack and plunged both his weapons into the man's gut. The young guard gurgled in shock as blood flowed into his systems before a tearing sensation he could barely comprehend filled his being. William growled in pleasure as the man's body was slowly consumed by his swords, leaving everything he had been wearing behind as his flesh and bones were consumed.

There was a reason he had waited for months before enacting his revenge. The Cursed Swords: Flesh and Bone were weapons made using long forgotten and forbidden magics that fused organic to inorganic material. In this case, it merged human flesh and bone to swords. Because the magic was considered black by any practitioner of the arcane, any weapon or object using it was a high-level artifact that possessed great and terrible power. It came with a price, however. The tool that it was used upon had to be fed to sustain itself. The weapons were much like their wielder: they were hungry.

William laughed with glee at the looks of pure horror upon the other guards. Some of them turned and ran; one of them headed for a tower with a bell, no doubt off to raise the alarm; and some of them grew angry and drew their own weapons, though they were far more cautious than their late companion.

"**I assume we will not be allowing anyone to escape, William?"** Pyre asked in that bizarre manner of his.

William only grinned wider at the question. "Consume all and leave none to tell the tale," he ordered. Pyre let out a roar of delight and just like that, the entire city was surrounded by a wall of flames too hot to get past.

Pyre spread his wings and flew to the opposite end of town, leaving his child to crack his neck as he watched the guards look at him in barely controlled fear. The bell began to ring, rousing the city, but it was already too late.

William fed every one of the guards that tried to stand against him to his swords. His stomach growled at him, demanding that it be satisfied as well. William happily obliged it on the first victims he came across.

It was a small family, a mother and father and their daughter. William didn't want the poor child to be traumatized too much, so he decided to be gracious and end her life first. He always had a soft spot for small children. He put away his weapons and dashed forward.

The father put himself between the half-demon and his family, fear shining in his eyes, but he didn't expect William's tail to wrap around his throat and tighten, making it so it was all the man could do to stay conscious. He did the same to the mother with one hand and reached down to gently caress the bawling child's face.

"Don't worry, child," he purred, his hand slowly drifting towards the little girl's throat. "You shall suffer the least of all of those who have been trapped tonight." He swiftly reached down, wrapped his hands around her throat, and then crushed it with an audible crack. He could feel the father begin to struggle more vehemently and he heard the mother silently whisper a denial, tears running down her face.

William's focus turned to the tears: the crystalline salt water that fell from the eyes of the human woman he held so callously in his grasp. "Does it feel nice?" he asked sadly. Both of the remaining humans halted for a moment, confused by his words. "Does it feel nice to be able to shed tears for the ones you love? Do you know what it is like to never cry?" He returned to the corpse of the child and began to consume her, starting with her shattered neck and greedily sucking the body dry of as much blood as he could.

Both of the humans were sickened by the sight of their daughter not only being killed in cold blood before their eyes, but then being devoured before their very eyes. William tore out his favorite bits and pieces of the human anatomy and left most of the small carcass to rot. He then turned to look the woman in the eyes.

"You can't understand my pain. I feel sadness and sorrow just like you, but I can never express it like you can." William reached out and wiped a tear from the woman's eyes, causing her to flinch away at his touch. "The bitter, salty droplets cannot fall from my eyes. No matter what I see or do or learn; it doesn't even matter who dies. I will not cry."

William snarled as he pulled the woman close to his face. She gagged from the stench that pervaded from him and tried to lean away futilely. "I can only say goodbye," He hissed. He let her go, allowing her to finally pull away and scream. But she was cut off midway as William viciously tore out her throat and swallowed it whole. He proceeded to devour her bit by bit, savoring the heart and liver, two of his favorite delicacies. Again he left the job half-finished, hungrily seeking new meat as he pulled the father into his view.

William let out a devilish grin and a small twitch formed in his neck as he watched the man struggle pointlessly while he cried in sorrow for his family. "Don't fear death," William said in an almost childish voice. "Death is your friend. Death took you family and friends from you, but he will take you back to them soon. When facing Death, do not be afraid," he bit down into the man's arm, savoring his choked cry of agony as William tore away most of his bicep and chewed with relish. "Don't be afraid of Death," he repeated before his voice became a low growl, "be afraid of pain."

William cackled with glee as he killed and consumed more and more people, anxiously going from person to person and half-eating them before moving on. He would finish his leftovers later. For now, he had people to kill.

In the chaos, one tiny figure clutched his sister closely and watched anxiously for a way to escape. He knew he wouldn't be able to leave the city, the wall of flames made that obvious. He and his sister yelped as a building was knocked over and the stone shattered on the ground a few feet from them. He saw a small hole that both he and his sister could hide in. He gently urged her inside and climbed in after her, the two huddling in the darkness of the rubble.

Lucifer held Jenny close to his body to comfort the poor girl as she desperately tried to stifle her shrieks of fear and sobs of terror. She wasn't used to seeing such horrible things. Lucifer, while he had seen atrocities committed through the eyes of another, had never seen them done in such a grand scale. His one thought was to keep his sister safe. It didn't matter, as long as she was safe. He had sworn that he would always protect her, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that it stayed that way.

* * *

William sighed in contentment as he rested atop a pile of rubble, the dawn rays revealing the rubble that was once the Desert Oasis. Bloodied tatters of clothes lied strewn about the half of the city that had been devoured by William. The other half, which had been consumed by Pyre, had been completely demolished and the only traces of inhabitants among the rubble were specks of blood. The once crystal clear oasis was now died a pinkish hue.

The Death-Demon of Fire was nowhere in sight. He had already been dismissed. William absentmindedly picked his teeth with a bone he had already sucked the marrow from. It was all that remained of his victims. After finishing he crunched on the bone and lounged back, placing his arm over his eyes so the sun did not bother them.

William was covered in blood. None of it was his. Any that resisted were immediately killed. He sighed in disappointment. All of the humans here had fought with fear in their eyes. None of them would have done at all. To be able to kill a monster like him, someone needed determination. They didn't need fear, fear was something William was all too familiar with. Fear weakened the heart and weakened the resolve. Fear reduced men to beasts.

Flesh and Bone were stuck into the ground a ways away. The half-demon shared a symbiotic bond with the cursed weapons, and their senses were his. The eyes upon Flesh were being used as a lookout while William dozed with an arm lazily thrown over his eyes. Bone was picking up any vibrations that were made and would alert William if anything was approaching.

William was nearly asleep when Bone felt something. Oddly enough, it was something small, about the size of a child, crawling beneath him. William remained relaxed as he watched through Flesh's eyes a small boy poke his head out of an opening in the rubble beneath him and look around.

The young child's eyes froze as they saw the swords resting not far away. William snickered silently to himself as he knew the boy was thinking about what they meant. They meant that William was still nearby. He saw fear in the boy's eyes for a moment, then William almost jumped at what he saw next. The boy's eyes flashed with grim determination as he stepped out and stood among the rubble. He saw the boy mouth something into the hole before he warily looked around.

William sat up and looked down at the small child. He couldn't have been older than six, but the way he carried himself seemed like that of an adult. His turban was nearly destroyed, bits of hair sticking out every which way from the tattered remains. He was covered in dust from head to toe.

"Do you know the difference between courage and stupidity, boy?" William asked, causing the child to whirl and look up at the demon sitting atop the rubble pile. William smiled gently, though the gesture was far more menacing without skin to properly show the expression. "Courage is when one looks at a situation, weighs the option, and pursues the option that will benefit him the least out of everyone that benefits from it and possibly places himself in danger. Stupidity is where one looks at a situation, and chooses the one that places himself in immediate danger with no regard to the possible outcomes or consequences of his actions."

The boy bravely stared William in the eye, earning a bit of respect from the half-demon. He calmly answered. "When I looked at you, I saw a monster that devoured an entire city in a single night. Now I see a creature that is full of wisdom and seeks to share that wisdom with those who will listen. Are you a demon, or are you a man with an unfortunate fate? I can tell just by looking at you Fate hasn't been kind, but I do not know what you went through, as your Thread of Fate appears to have been lost in the River of Time."

William smiled even wider, noting how the boy flinched at the action, but held his ground and kept his gaze. "I have lived a long time, young Thread Diviner. I assume you are one because of what you just said about my Thread of Fate." William paused, and when he received no correction from the young boy he continued.

"During my time of existence, I have killed many people. I must feed upon their flesh and blood in order to survive. Every time I have killed, I have always looked into the eyes of those I slay. I have seen a myriad of emotions and have seen insights into a person's innermost thoughts through this and I have learned to read the eyes of another well. When I look into the eyes of most, I see fear. But I do not see fear in your eyes. No, I see… something different." William grew silent. "What is your name, boy?"

"…Lucifer," Lucifer answered.

William let his smile fall, a look of world-weary knowledge adorning his features. "You no doubt wonder why I do not attack you."

Lucifer was silent, but nodded slowly. He had not let his guard down for a moment. William gestured to the rubble beneath him. "I know there is another within the place you hid. I do not know who or what they are, but I see in your eyes not fear, but resolve. The fear I see in people is varied: they fear me; they fear death; they fear suffering the same fate as others; they fear losing the ones they love; they fear being hurt; they fear being unable to protect; you get the picture.

"But very rarely, I see not fear in someone's eyes, but resolve: resolve to fight me even though the fear me; the resolve to grapple with death; the resolve to make a difference; the resolve to avoid losing those they love; the resolve to protect others." William pointed to Lucifer. "That is what I see in you now.

"You have shown great courage. You put yourself in immediate danger to see if it was safe for whoever you are protecting. Upon realizing that it was not safe, you considered retreating, but you took into account the possibility that Flesh's eyes are not merely decoration. You knew that the eyes had seen you so you figured you might as well reveal yourself to hopefully protect whoever else is in there by making me think that there is only one of you still alive. You have taken the path that aids others, and you have great resolve to see it through."

William grew silent. Lucifer stared at the halfling, pondering his words. "That still does not explain why you are not attacking me." He pointed out, confused why this monster that had just killed and eaten so many was giving him a philosophical lecture. Was it a man or a monster that sat before him? Lucifer was so confused.

"You show resolve. You have seen what I have done and you judge me based upon your actions. You consider me a monster, but you have not attacked for I have not made any moves to threaten you. You are confused by my pacifistic behaviors. You see me and you do not see a charred demon, but a rational being that can be reasoned with; an equal; a… person, I suppose would be the best term." William explained. "In other words, I see you as someone with the potential to kill me."

Lucifer blinked in surprise. William stood and began to casually walk towards Lucifer. Lucifer made to defend himself, but the half-demon just walked past the Thread Diviner. "Someone who does not acknowledge that what they face is in fact of this world and can be conquered, cannot hope to truly overcome what they fear." He picked up his swords and placed them onto his back once more, tendrils of the weapons attaching to his body to keep them there. "You and the one you protect are free to leave. A group of people is coming soon. They should be able to take you somewhere safe. Besides, I have a feeling that Fate has more plans for you."

A black portal opened beside William and the King walked into it calmly. Lucifer was confused over what had just happened, but shrugged it off and decided to wonder about it later. He reached back into his sister and his hiding place. "It's safe now, you can come out."

Jenny quickly crawled out and clutched at her brother, tears flowing freely from her eyes. "I was so scared, Brother. I didn't want you to die! I'm so happy you're all right!"

Lucifer hugged his sister and gently shushed her. "It's alright, Jenny," he told her, his voice becoming calm as he held himself in check to be her pillar of strength. "I'm right here. I love you and as long as I am alive, you will always be the one I care for most. You're my family, Jenny, and I won't let anyone take you from me."

Jenny cried all the harder from his words. A while later, Jenny had calmed down and fell asleep next to Lucifer as the adrenaline that had kept her awake for so long left her body. Lucifer desperately tried to suppress the memories of the night he was experiencing, then realized with a jolt that he wasn't getting the visions from his sister. They were his own.

Lucifer looked to his sister in shock. He kept looking at her and he tried to keep himself calm as he realized he could no longer see the Threads of Fate. He was part glad that he no longer had to deal with the constant visions, but he was also distraught as he did not understand how he could lose the ability.

"Remain calm," an achingly familiar voice told him. Lucifer turned to see Wyrd, the God of Fate looking at him with the eyes of a man too old to deal with the foolishness of children. "I have suppressed your Thread Diviner ability. Your psyche has been… heavily unsettled by what you have seen. I fear that the Thread Diviner trait will only compound your problems."

Lucifer nodded. He knew who Wyrd was. When they had first met, Lucifer had demanded an explanation of why he couldn't see the nobleman's Thread.

Wyrd sighed once more and gently place a hand on Lucifer's head and ruffled his hair. "I am sorry I could not prevent what happened last night. But, it brings me great joy to know that you and your sister are safe. I will keep a close eye on you and when I think your ability will no longer cause you too much undue stress, I will be sure to return it to you. Just promise me you will deal with what is happening in your own mind for once, alright?"

"But, Jenny-" Lucifer started, his voice cracking slightly. Now that Jenny was asleep he didn't have anyone to be strong for. The mental trauma was slowly making its way to him.

"Will not remember any of this," Wyrd told him. "She does not have enough world experience for her mind to be able to cope with what happened, and so she will suppress it. She will remember very little, but she will be fine and continue to be her normal self, though I'm afraid she will always be afraid of fire and blood."

Lucifer nodded, understanding. He looked up at the transcendent being. "Thank you, O God of Fate." He said, his eyes showing true feeling in his words.

Wyrd looked at the boy sadly. "Do not thank me. There is a reason they say Fate can be cruel. But few realize how cruel I can be." And with those final words to the traumatized child, Wyrd vanished.

* * *

The group gaped in open awe at the sheer destruction that had occurred. They saw the burning blaze from afar during the night and tried to fight away sorrow as the orange glow faded and the day dawned.

A day had passed since they had set off at double time. They made the trek from the Triet Ruins to the Desert Oasis of foot in record time, but they were still far too late. They surveyed the damage and many covered their noses from the lingering scent of sulfur and blood.

Robert shuddered as the scent filled his nostrils. He felt the berserker within shift at the scent of blood. He frowned deeply. "I… I can't stay here," he announced, putting his hand to his head as he tried to fight the monster back. "All this blood everywhere is making me lose control. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to help you search for survivors," he told them.

Raine nodded in understanding. "You wait as far from the city as you need to. We'll come get you after we do a search."

"There's not much left to search though." Lloyd said sadly.

Kratos nodded. "Even if someone managed to hide beneath some rubble, they most likely would have been buried alive and suffocated by now."

"Let's check the oasis for survivors," Genis suggested. "If anyone did manage to survive and wasn't buried, they'd probably head over there, seeing as the oasis was the symbol for Triet. They'd probably gravitate towards it to try to cope with what they experienced.

Everyone nodded and carefully made their way towards the pond in the center of the city. Upon reaching the now-pink body of water, they were shocked to see Lucifer holding a sleeping Jenny near the burnt husk of a palm tree.

Raine hurried over, her sisterly instincts kicking in upon seeing the two traumatized children. "Are you both alright?" she asked.

Lucifer looked calmly at the half-elf and a broken smile worked onto his face. "I don't see your past," he said, his voice cracking several times. "I just see mine. I don't see yours. The Threads of Fate are gone!" he almost started to laugh, but managed to stop himself.

Raine sighed, holding her hand to his forehead. "It seems you've gone delirious," she murmured.

Sylvia kneeled down next to her aunt. She took a look at Lucifer and shook her head. "No, I don't think he is. Remember that fortune teller kid we told you about?" Raine nodded. "This is him." Sylvia wrapped her hands around one of Lucifer's, who was clutching his slumbering sister tightly. "Lucifer, what do you mean you can't see the Threads of Fate?"

Lucifer had to do his best not to burst out into joyous laughter. He was finally seeing what it was like to not live cursed as he was. It was wonderful. "Wyrd took my Thread Divining away!" he said happily, the unstable, broken smile widening. "I don't see your pasts or futures. I just know what happened in my head!"

Genis eyed the boy. It seems that the mental trauma from what he had seen wasn't affecting him too much. More like the loss of the ability he was born with.

Raine thought for a moment before turning to Sylvia. "Sylvia, you, Thomas, and Sylpher were the only ones to interact with Lucifer before this all happened. It he normally like this?" she asked.

Sylvia shook her head. "No, he's not. Before he was completely calm and talked like an old man."

Kratos spoke up. "He was born with this "Thread Divining" ability of his, correct?"

Thomas nodded in response. "Yeah, he called it a curse. Didn't seem like he enjoyed it all that much."

Raine frowned deeply. "It's possible that the sudden loss of that heavy burden caused his mind to break, since he was so used to having it. Such a drastic, sudden change in his lifestyle could have made him lose his mind," she theorized.

Sylpher shook his head before walking upand poking the mentally unstable child in the forehead. "I don't think that's the problem at all," he said.

Thomas held back a snicker at his friend. "Um, are you sure you want to contradict the Professor on something like this? She is the best healer of the group after all."

"I know that," Sylpher grumbled, "But from what I could tell, Lucifer was longing to be free of that curse. He wouldn't snap because he lost the ability to read the Threads of Fate. The experiences he saw since he was born were always making it so that his mental defenses were extremely high," he told them. "If anything, losing the ability would make him stronger, mentally, than almost anyone around."

"But the boy is obviously not stable," Raine sighed.

Sylpher nodded. "Yeah. So, considering what he just went through, it's possible that his psyche was cracked by everything that happened and now that he's had a chance to process everything, he's clinging to the happy thought of how he can't see the Threads of Fate anymore to try and cling to what sanity he has left."

Lucifer blinked. "You do all remember I'm right here, right?" he asked, his voice still hinting at mental instability.

"Look, we can wonder why he's acting crazy later," Lloyd said, "For now, we need to get them out of here so they don't have to look at all this."

Everyone agreed and after waking Jenny up, who was in far better condition than her brother, they walked back towards the outskirts of the ruined city. They found Robert meditating a few hundred yards from the city. Noishe was resting beside him.

Robert looked up at their approach, as did Noishe. Robert's eyes wandered to the two kids that had joined the group. "Survivors?" he asked.

Raine nodded. "Yes, though Lucifer seems to be undergoing severe mental trauma and Jenny appears to have suppressed the memory of the event entirely."

Robert nodded. "We should probably get them to somewhere safe ASAP, huh?" he asked. Getting an answer in the affirmative, he sighed. "I'm not sure if she'll be willing to show herself with all these people here, but I have a friend who can help get them to Asgard within a couple days. Hopefully they'll hold on till then."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "You know someone able to do that? How come you haven't introduced us yet?" he asked.

Genis glared at the man. "Yeah, he would've been really helpful in getting to Triet to help," He added.

Robert shook his head. "Well, you see, she doesn't like large groups of people, so I try not to call on her when I'm with a lot of people, no offence against you guys. And, She could only probably carry one of us at a time at most, but I think those two kids should be light enough that she will only have to make one round trip."

Robert put his fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. A bird's cry answered and soon after, a massive, eagle-like bird descended from the sky. It was red and white and turned to look angrily at Robert.

Robert sighed. "Look, Rolshe, I know you don't like people. I'm sorry, but you know I wouldn't call you with this many people around without good reason." He told the bird. Everyone else was too busy staring at the mighty avian creature in shock as he continued to talk to bird.

Noishe whined and walked a little closer to Rolshe, sniffing her. Rolshe took notice of this and pecked Noishe on the head, earning a yelp from the arshis.

Kratos was the first to break the silence. "Your friend is a protozoan?" he asked.

Raine's eyes began to sparkle with an otherworldly light as she looked at the creature. "You mean this is a protozoan in its aeros-form, the one where they can soar the skies?" she asked.

Robert shrugged. "I don't care what Rolshe is. She and I are friends so we help each other. Can I have a bit of scroll and a quill? I need to write a letter to the man I'm having Rolshe take them to." Robert was given the necessary items and he began to write while he explained what he wanted Rolshe to do.

"To think there would be another protozoan besides Noishe," the Professor said under her breath. "I simply must have a sample!"

The aeris took one look at Raine and hopped away several steps. Robert looked up from his letter at this and saw the look in Riane's eyes, instantly understanding. "Yeah, stay away from her," he admonished his old friend. The bird gave a squawk as if to say 'No dip, Sherlock.'

Lucifer and Jenny were loaded onto Rolshe's back and Robert handed the letter to Rolsh who took it in her beak. "Take them to Sam, please. Thanks so much, Rolshe."

The bird nodded and ruffled its feathers for a moment before spreading its wings and taking to the skies. Robert watched sadly as he let out a sigh.

"I'm afraid I must depart as well now," he said, hoisting a his pack over his shoulder.

"Wouldn't it be smarter to stay with us?" Lloyd suggested. "You know, 'safety in numbers'?"

Robert shook his head. "My destination and yours will not intersect. Besides, I can move faster alone than in a group. It's been wonderful working with you all and I have been honored to fight alongside you, but I'm afraid our time together must end."

"You don't want to hurt us," Raine guessed, seeing the truth before anyone else. Robert merely nodded in response.

"Don't try to talk me out of it, either," he said, cutting Colette off before she could start to argue. "Seeing that kid like he was reminded me of what lurked in my mind. Unpredictability is a staple of insanity, and I never know when I'll lose mine. I can't risk anyone getting caught in that. I have enough blood on my hands, I don't want to add the blood of my heroes to it."

With that said, he began to march off. "See you later!" Thomas shouted after him. The mercenary merely raised his hand as he faded into the desert mirages.

* * *

Pensive Poetry

* * *

That night, Raine was translating the book she had gotten from William, seeing as he failed to ask for it back before everything happened. She came upon an interesting poem that piqued her interest. It went like this:

Death  
Terrible, Impatient  
Disturbing, Sickening, Horrifying  
Chaotically, Nauseatingly, Peacefully, Sorrowfully  
Calming, Silencing, Comforting  
Patient, Gentle  
Death

Raine thought upon this poem. It was a Diamond Poem, normally used to compare to different things. However, this one compared Death to Death, as if they were opposites. What was the message the author was trying to convey? She sighed as she closed the book

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**IMPORTANT NOTE: PLEASE READ! **_

_**I'm going to start trying something here. I'm going to try a small experiment. I'll occasionally put a poem at the end of a chapter as food for thought for you, my dear readers. I'll try to use my own stuff but if I use someone else's I'll tell you. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not, so let me know what you think. The poem will usually have something to do with the chapter's contents, but not always. This one sort of does and sort of doesn't. Feel free to speak to me about it in a review or whatever or just keep it to yourself and think for a bit. **_

_**END OF IMPORTANT NOTE!**_

_**Give your soul to me, for et-er-ni-ty. Release your life and take your place inside the fire with her! In your grave with me, there's an-oth-er way. Release your life and take your place inside the fire with her!**_

_**William: Will you stop listening to that song already! **_

_**But Disturbed's**_** Inside the Fire**_** is a good song for what happened.**_

_**William: but you are annoying me with how much you are playing it. **_

_**You're just jealous.**_

_**William: … *twitches in anger***_

_**Okay, fine. I should be asking how the readers enjoyed my blood and gore anyway.**_

_**William: And that is why you are the Storyteller of **_**Darkness**_**.**_

_**Heeheeheeheeheehee! Mwahahahahaha! ! !**_

_**William: We can do without the maniacal laughter.**_

_**It's been so long. I've been craving this scene from the start. I'm a little worried about the rating being too low for what I wanted to do, so I toned it down some on the gory details to make it less gory. And I threw in a warning. If you read that and are currently horrified and disgusted, then I succeeded in my objective. I haven't made William seem like too much of a bad guy so far, so I wanted to show you all that he rightly deserves his title of "demon". And put in more character development for him. That the last of him for a while. He won't pop up anytime soon again.**_

_**William: And you had to show me being a demon in gory death and carnage. Surely you could have just skipped to the aftermath from the start?**_

_**But traumatizing scenes are so much more impacting when experienced. If a rape victim is unconscious during the crime, while it is still traumatizing, it is far less traumatizing than when the victim is awake. The mind is less affected by things that it does not experience for itself than it is by things it does. Of course, this doesn't hold true for certain things, like in scary movies. In those, it is better to not show what happens to victims and merely show the aftermath of their demise because the fear of the unknown is a powerful thing in the human mind. Uncertainty and lack of knowledge are always worse than knowing.**_

_**William: Are you sure you shouldn't be a psych major instead of Pre-pharmacy?**_

_**I'm leaning more towards a major to become an author. Might do something in education, but Psych is definitely an option. Not sure what I'll do, but I'll find something. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have college to return to. Please leave a review. And don't ask what was up with the gory scene in a review. I put my reasons for doing that here so I didn't have to explain myself to everyone who reviews.**_

_**William: Now will you tell me what you meant when you said that about me last chapter?**_

_**I know not of what you speak. **_**0=)**

_**William: I am going to slow roast you over a magma pool and season your burns with lemon juice until you stop this bull crap and answer me.**_

… _**That does not sound pleasant. I'll tell you.**_

_**William: … Well?**_

_**I can't spoil it all for the readers! Just wait until we're done with the chapter. **_

_**Crimson Flare is not an original idea, I got the spell from Tales of Vesperia. I would love to get Tales of Graces, but the English version is on PS3, a system which I do not have. I am sad.**_

_**You know, I realized something.**_

_**William: what?**_

_**There were like, three perfect set-ups to end the chapter earlier. I haven't had to force myself to keep writing in a while. Maybe I should write with 24 hours of no sleep more often. **_

_**William: please don't.**_

_**And now we are off to Luin! I have been asked when Ratatosk will appear, seeing as this story has his name under 'characters'. Well, Emil C, he's coming next chapter! Be excited. Or terrified. I have Luin planned out in great detail.**_

_**William: Expect lots of mind-games.**_

_**Review!**_


	19. Chapter 19: Let's Play a Game

_**I'm so happy that we're out of Triet!**_

_**Telarra: It's about damn time, too!**_

_**Oh, hello, Telarra! Are you ready to screw with people?**_

_**Telarra: I was born ready. Now hurry up and get to the chapter.**_

_**Aren't you the Water-element-master of the Elemental Four?**_

_**Telarra: Yeah. What of it?**_

_**Aren't you supposed to be calm and mellow, like water?**_

_**Telarra: Who says water has to be mellow and calm? Is a stormy sea calm? Is a tidal wave calm? Is a raging hurricane calm?**_

_**Hurricanes aren't attributed to water.**_

_**Telarra: They should be. They have more to do with water than wind. Tornadoes do damage with wind. The greatest damage factor of a hurricane is the storm surge, the tidal wave it sends out. The winds are nowhere near as strong as a tornado's and the water does almost all of the devastation!**_

… _**This is true. Why are hurricanes used to describe wind stuff anyway?**_

_**Telarra: Wish I knew!**_

_**Anonymous reviews:**_

_**xxOkunixx: Thank you for the compliment! As I always say, sanity is boring. **_**(^_^)**_** I wouldn't mind being friends at all. Though I must admit, I was slightly sad to see a review in my inbox and find out it was a request. Oh, well. It doesn't bother me. I hope you've enjoyed my story!**_

_**Well, let's get down to business. It's your time to shine, Telarra. **_

_**Telarra: but I don't get to fight.**_

_**But you get to screw with people's minds! **_

_**Telarra: yeah, but that isn't the same as fighting.**_

_**True. **_

_**Telarra: By the way, spoiler warning for you readers.**_

_**Indeed. Though, if you didn't know Emil was Ratatosk… Well, you do now. Now, I want to clarify something. Whenever Emil is… Emil, I will refer to him as such. When he enters Ratatosk Mode and becomes Ratatosk, I will call him Ratatosk. Don't expect Ratatosk to stay around much for a good while, thoughs.**_

_**Now, because I'm tired of having to deal with nine protagonists at a time, I'm going to leave them behind for a while. If you wanna know where they are, they're heading for Luin. We, however, will be using the power of the "because-I-said-so" to skip to Luin ahead of them and watch what unfolds amongst the Castagnier family.**_

_**Telarra: enjoy the fluffiness of this chapter.**_

_**This chapter will start off with a big, happy family scene. I've… never really done a scene like this before. It has a kind of… happy feel to it. I'm unused to this feeling when writing. What is it?**_

_**Telarra: It's called a lack of angst, suspense, or any kind of conflict. In other words, it's one of those slower parts of a story. You know, relief from the nightmares that usually run rampant in your stories.**_

_**I'm not entirely sure what it is.**_

_**Telarra: …Why did I even bother?**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 19: Let's Play a Game

"Emerald, wake up!" Marta told her daughter, entering the small guest bedroom that she was given while they visited Emil's Aunt and Uncle.

Emerald Castagnier yawned as she stretched her arms and pushed herself off of the bed. She blinked at the sheets, wondering how she got in bed. Last she recalled, she was at her workbench.

Marta noticed this and shook her head. With a sigh, she explained, "I told you not to stay up too late working on that gift, Emerald. Your father found you asleep over it when he was going to bed. You really need to learn how to know when to call it a night."

Emerald smiled guiltily at her mother while rubbing the back of her head. She gave a small laugh. "I just lose track of time too easily," she said.

"Well, hurry up and get dressed," Marta told her, shaking her head at her daughter. A broad smile was on her face. "Lloyd, Colette, and Thomas should be arriving sometime today. I don't think you want to be asleep when they get here."

Emerald nodded and eagerly got dressed while her mother left the teenager alone. Emerald was a regular sixteen-year-old girl. Of course, not _every_ girl's father was a summon spirit in disguise, but that never bothered her much. After all, she was never lonely with all of the monsters that they took care of.

Emerald carefully put the flower decorations that were once her mother's in her hair. They were a gift from her mother on her tenth birthday. Emerald was so happy when she got them. But she couldn't get used to the sight of her mother without them, so she made a replica for her for Mother's Day.

Emerald carefully inspected her reflection in the mirror. Her bark brown hair was relatively straight and fell down to her shoulder blades. Her bright, emerald eyes inherited from her father were full of life like they always were. She finished with the last button on the green vest she wore over her brown shirt. She wore a green miniskirt with green legging that went down to her shins. Brown boots finished up the wardrobe of the half-summon spirit.

Smiling brightly at her reflection, she opened the door and headed towards the kitchen. As she walked into the room, a small, yipping ball of fur ran excitedly around her ankles. She giggled as she reached down and picked up the wolf cub, which snuggled lovingly into her chest. "Good morning, Tut," she told the wolf as she scratched his ears. "You're as excitable as ever."

"Good morning, Emerald. Did you sleep well?" Emil greeted as he piled as plate full of breakfast casserole and placed it on the table. A hearty breakfast was prepared for everyone and the rest of her family was already seated and digging in.

Emerald smiled at her father as she sat down, Tut settling into her lap as she began to eat. "Yeah. Thanks for taking me back to my room. Again," she told her father.

"You really need to make sure you get enough sleep, dear. You are still a growing girl, after all," Flora told her grand-niece. Emerald rolled her eyes at her great-aunt as she sneaked a couple of strips of bacon for Tut.

"Emerald, don't feed Tut scraps form the table. He's already had his breakfast," Marta said, eying her daughter knowingly. Emerald did her best to look innocent, but Marta just kept her gaze and Emerald was eventually forced to admit defeat.

"How do you always know when I'm sneaking scraps from the table, anyway?" Emerald pouted, reluctantly putting Tut down. The young pup didn't seem to mind as it bounded over to Emil as he made his way over to the table.

"Mother's intuition," Marta answered.

"So, Emerald, what are you working on that is important enough to ignore sleep this time?" Alba asked.

Emerald smiled. She loved working with her hands. Any form of crafting she excelled at. From clay models to painting, she was a natural in all areas. She was always working on one such project or another, and she often stayed up too late working on them. It was a miracle her eyes were never bloodshot with how often she would lose track of time and fall asleep at her workbench.

"I'm working on my birthday gift for Sylvia. You know how she's always wearing a branch of sage in her hair, right? Well, I figured she would like it if she didn't have to replace it so often, so I'm making some hair accessories in the shape of sage for her," she explained.

"That's wonderful, I'm sure she'll love it," Marta told her daughter.

Emil raised an eyebrow. "So what about Sylpher? What's his gift?"

"Oh, that one's already done," she told him. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bird carving. "You see, he's really arachnaphobic, so I figured I'd give him a bird pendant, since birds eat spiders. I thought it might help him with his problem."

"Sylpher's afraid of spiders?" Marta asked, surprised.

Emerald nodded. "Yeah, but he doesn't like people knowing about it. I'm not even sure if Thomas knows, and they're pretty close. The only reason I know is because Sylvia told me."

The family finished up breakfast and Emerald went back to work on her present. It was mostly done, so it only took her about an hour and a half to finish the accessories. When she was done, she figured she would go sketch some things around the city. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and the waters of Lake Sinoa glistened like a mirror. She grabbed some of her art supplies and headed outside, Tut right on her heels.

She smiled as she sat down on a bench near the piers and pulled out her sketchbook. Tut, who stuck to Emerald as if she was his mother, clambered up onto the bench and lay down next to her. He watched Emerald's hand move fluently across the paper, drawing a fisherman and his son working to get their boat ready for the day.

"Excuse me, miss. Is that seat taken?"

Emerald looked up from her drawing to see a purple-haired man in an expensive-looking blue-and purple suit looking at her. His hand was pointing to the spot on the bench next to her, where her bag of pencils was resting. "Oh, no, go right ahead," she told him, moving her perncil bag to the other side of her so he could sit down.

The man sat down with a large sigh and watched Emerald as she continued to draw. "You have a very wonderful gift for art, Miss…"

"Please, call me Emerald," Emerald said, pausing to hold out her hand for a handshake. The man smiled and returned it.

"And I am known as Wyrd," he told her.

"So, what brings you to Luin, Mr. Wyrd?" Emerald asked, her hand still drawing as she talked.

"I just needed a respite from something that happened recently. I made a small miscalculation and nearly everything I am working for was lost because of it."

"That's terrible. Did everything turn out okay?"

Wyrd nodded. "Yes, everything ended up fine. Well, as fine as it could turn out in a situation like that," Wyrd sighed. "I can't allow the same to happen here," he murmured under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last bit."

"Nothing, nothing you need to worry about."

The two fell into silence for a moment. Tut sniffed Wyrd's hand and shied away from the noble. Wyrd heaved another sigh and stood up. "Well, Miss Castagnier, thank you for your company, but I must be off. A word of advice before I leave: A mask doesn't always hide an enemy. Sometimes, it will hide a friend."

The man walked away as Emerald stared after him. "I don't remember telling him my last name," she said, a sense of unease settling into her stomach. The man had seemed kind enough, but she couldn't understand why he gave her such odd advice.

She shrugged it away and put away her things as the fisherman set out. She wandered away from the docks as she searched for something else to draw.

She made her way to the fountain and sat down on the bench across from it. She sighed as she looked up at the statue of Lloyd.

She shook her head in wonder at the thought of how the man was only a year older than she was now when the Heroes of Regeneration started their first journey. "What drives someone to do all of that?" she wondered aloud. "What gave them the drive to keep on going when there was no hope in sight?"

"Perhaps it was foolishness," a deep, slightly muffled voice responded. Emerald jumped and looked beside her to see a man covered in bandages standing nearby, gazing at the statue as well. "Perhaps it was the hopeless naïveté that is only found in the young. The foolishness of youth to believe that there is a way to do anything."

Emerald frowned and shook her head. "No, there has to be more to it than that. They couldn't have had the determination to do all that just because they knew there had to be a way to do it."

"They didn't," the man answered. "They took things one at a time. If you were to tell them all of the things that they needed to do at the start of their journey, they might have despaired and felt that it was impossible. However, things came one after another, and with a ray of hope here and there, they managed to pull through."

Tut cautiously walked up to the man and sniffed him. He seemed confused for a moment before sniffing some more. Then, without warning, he jumped back and started growling at the man with his hackles raised. "What's wrong, Tut?" Emerald asked, confused.

"He is wary of me because I lack a scent," The man informed. "I'm surprised you've been staying in conversation with me this long. Did Ratatosk teach his child nothing of us?"

Emerald was immediately on the defensive. She jumped off the bench and pulled out a small dagger from her sleeve that she always kept on her. "Who are you?" she asked, lowering herself into a defensive stance with her dagger held in a reverse-grip before her.

The man laughed darkly, turning to look at her, his single eye unblinking as he examined her. "I merely mention your father and you immediately draw a weapon on me. I think you might be a bit too excitable, dear," he said.

"I asked you who you are," she asserted, her voice becoming a growl.

"There's that temper of Ratatosk's. I was wondering if you got any of it at all." The man bowed deeply before flourishing his hand to indicate himself. "I am known as Nazo. I am the Fourteenth Lord of the Unborn. I have been sent to apprehend you." Nazo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think that's the nicer way of saying it," he mused to himself.

Emerald narrowed her eyes at the man. They stared at each other for a moment, neither making a move. After a moment, Nazo blinked slowly. "This is interesting," he murmured. "I can't see into your soul." Nazo sighed before saying louder, "I suppose it is because of your heritage."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter," Nazo assured. "I was merely making an observation to myself. You do not need to concern yourself with it."

Emerald and Nazo stood completely still, staring at each other. Emerald kept her gaze on the bandaged man like a hawk watching its prey, never lowering her guard.

"I've yet to make a threatening move," Nazo said. "Surely you don't need to keep your guard up for someone like me."

Emerald couldn't help but snort as she continued to glare at the strange man. "You've already told me that you were sent to capture me," she declared. "I would think it would be obvious for someone to be suspicious of anyone with those intents."

Nazo sighed. "It is true I came here to capture you," he said. He slowly reached towards the girl. "But if you will only allow me to-"

"Back off!"

Nazo gasped as a sharp pain entered his awareness as Emerald swiped her dagger across his hand. He pulled it back in reflex and clenched it. Another gasp escaped his mouth as the action caused it to hurt more. He opened it back up and stared in awe at the blood stain that was slowly growing around the cut. "You hurt me," he whispered. "More than that: you made me bleed!"

Nazo looked up to see the girl fleeing from him. Nazo smiled viciously and he felt his very soul stir in excitement at what he knew this meant. "I have found you at last, my beautiful Fragment! Soon the ones who have truly come to capture you will arrive. I'll have to wait for the right time."

Unfortunately, Emerald was already out of earshot and didn't hear this last part. She continued to run, making her way back to her aunt and uncle's.

"Emerald!" a familiar voice called out. Emerald turned to see her father jogging towards her, a worried look on his face. "Is something wrong?"

Emerald breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her father. "There's some freak covered in bandages after me for some reason," she said, approaching Emil.

Emil frowned. "Someone is after you?" he asked. Emerald nodded. "Do you know why?"

"It might be because I'm your daughter," Emerald said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "He did say Ratatosk should know who he is. He asked if you hadn't taught me anything about 'the Unborn', whatever that is."

Emil's face darkened slightly. "So I guess the rumors were true; Nazo has gone rogue after all," he said. "Oh well, I doubt he'd be stupid enough to interfere with what we're doing here."

Emerald cocked her head at her father. "What are you talking about, Dad?" Something was wrong. She had a feeling that something was up, and she didn't know what. She hated not knowing what was going on.

Suddenly, Emerald became aware of a presence behind her. Before she could react, the icy cold touch of steel kissed her neck. Emerald fearfully looked down and jumped back at the sight only to bump into the man behind her and have him wrap his other arm around her body, pinning her arms to her sides. The horribly scarred arm followed her and returned the weapon to her neck.

She heard Tut growl and her captor cursed under his breath before he shifted and kicked. Tut was sent flying into a nearby wall where he slumped to the ground. "Tut!" Emerald cried in concern. The arm and weapon shifted once more, bringing Emerald's attention back to it.

The arm had clearly been through a lot. The flesh was charred and almost unrecognizable. The claw-like weapon fastened to the hand had been fused to the skin, making metal shine on the length of the severely burned arm. It was a miracle the appendage could still function.

"Don't move, Child of Ratatosk. I have been ordered to avoid killing you if possible. It is rather difficult for me to keep myself from slitting your throat as it is," a deep, cold voice said into her ear.

Emil looked at her with a look of derision on his face. "I can't believe it was that easy to fool you," he said. "I don't think I even needed to distract you for Vlad to sneak up on you."

Emerald couldn't understand what has going on. Some stranger was officially holding her hostage and her father was just laughing at her lack of awareness. "What are you talking about, Dad?" she asked, her eyes pleading for him to explain.

Emil laughed as he put his hands on his hips. "You still think I'm your father! That's too adorable!" He cupped Emerald's chin in his hand and looked over her, a bemused smile on his face. "You really are a cute one. I wouldn't mind having a face like yours." As he spoke, Emil's voice seemed to start echoing and change.

The man who looked just like Emil giggled at the look of fear and confusion in Emerald's eyes. "Oh, you are so adorable with that perplexed look on your face. I wonder what's going through your head right now. Probably thoughts of disbelief and asking yourself what in the world is going on," he laughed girlishly. It was so strange to hear the effeminate sound coming from his mouth, no matter how girly the man looked.

Emerald frowned deeply, finally fed up with the imposter. "Stop taking my father's form. Show yourself," she demanded. The faker laughed even more at her demand, the voice finally becoming that of a young woman.

"But there's no fun in being myself," the doppelganger said, calming down. "It's so much better to just taunt you like this." The fake Emil pinched her nose and giggled again.

"Telarra," the man holding Emerald, Vlad, said, his voice calm and professional. "It takes a lot of self-control for me to _not_ kill the girl right now. I suggest we move on with the plan before my instincts take over."

The fake Emil sighed. His form seemed to ripple and change until it became a blue-haired woman covered from head to toe in blue. She sighed and pouted, batting her aquamarine eyes at Vlad. "Oh, but I was having so much fun, little crow," she whined.

"If you think that will sway me, you are a fool. Rule of the Assassin No. 2: Appearances will deceive. That is why they are so useful," the man quoted.

Telarra sighed once more. Then, she brightened. "I have an idea," she said. Emerald did not like the smile that spread across her face. "We've still got some time to set things up before negotiations start. Let's have some fun with this." The woman's form rippled once more before it became a carbon copy of Emerald's own. Emerald definitely did not like where this idea was going.

* * *

Two hours had passed, and unbeknownst to Emil and Marta, their daughter was now being held prisoner by the Unborn. However, they were starting to get worried as it was nearly time for lunch and Emerald had yet to show up.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Curious, Emil answered it to find a red-haired, red-eyed woman in an elegant crimson dress standing there. Standing next to her in a very stiff pose was a butler of some kind. The woman gave a slight bow and smiled pleasantly. "Hello there. You must be Mr. Castagnier, correct?" she asked.

"Yes," Emil nodded, looking her over. "Um, if you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

The woman bowed again. "My name is Hema Karpos. I have come on behalf of our group to speak with you," she said. "May I enter?"

Emil was surprised. What could someone want with him? Only one reason came to mind. Something in his gut told him to be on his toes. "Sure," Emil said, nodding. "We were just getting ready to have lunch, if you want to join us."

"Thank you for the offer, but my business should be concluded before then," she declined. She made her way to the table and sat down, her butler pulling out a china teacup and teapot before pouring her some tea. "I had Winston bring tea for me, since I am rather persnickety when it comes to tea and I did not wish to bother you with making it to my demands," Hema explained, sipping lightly at the beverage. Emil only nodded, giving her an odd look and sitting across from her.

"What can I help you with?" he asked, wanting to get straight to the point.

"Before we begin, can you gather the rest of your family? It would be best to speak with all present."

Emil nodded and went to get Marta and his aunt and uncle. As they all entered the room and sat down, they cast odd glances to the butler and Hema, wondering what they were doing there. Emil sat back down and focused on the crimson-wearing woman. "I'm sorry, but our daughter is still somewhere in the city. We aren't sure where she is."

"That is fine," Hema assured him. "My business is perhaps best discussed without her presence."

"Is there something we can help you with?" Marta asked, not liking what her instincts were telling her about this woman.

"Yes. I have come to ask a favor of Ratatosk," Hema told them. Both Emil and Marta took a sharp breath, though their visitor either didn't notice or didn't care to comment. "You two are the closest to him, so we deduced that it would be easiest to reach him through you."

Both of the Castagniers let out a small sigh of relief. They didn't know about the secret of who Emil really was. "I suppose we could bring a message to him, if you want," Emil offered.

"Why do you want to talk to Ratatosk, anyway?" Marta asked, curious.

Hema took another sip of her tea, emptying the cup and holding it out. Winston carefully refilled the cup for his mistress. Hema set the china back down and folded her arms, crossing her legs. "Because, we desire for the Ginungagap to be opened, and we cannot do so without his help."

Emi and Marta's eyes widened. Emil shifted uncomfortably and Marta's face grew gravely serious. "Of course, we wish to settle this without incident. It would be best if we could cooperate as much as possible," Hema told them, her face remaining carefully neutral. "For everyone involved," she added.

Emil frowned, trying to think of a way to avoid conflict. "Well, Ratatosk sealed the Ginungagap off for a good reason. I'm not sure if he's willing to open it up for just anyone," he told her, choosing his words carefully. "Why do you want to go in?"

Hema sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid I was expressly ordered not to tell you. In fact, I don't know why exactly our master desires to enter the Ginungagap. But it is expressly in your interest if you do, Ratatosk."

Emil's eyes widened in shock and Marta's narrowed in suspicion. "Just who are you?" she asked. "I don't think your just some messenger." She rose from her chair and slammed her hands on the table, glaring accusingly at the red head. "What are you really here for?"

Suddenly, a small wolf cub came bursting in through the doggy door at the entrance. The pup began yipping urgently, pulling at Emil's leg. Emil blinked at the young canine, recognizing it. "Tut?" he asked. "What are you doing here? Where's Emerald?" The wolf barked in response and tugged at his pant let again.

"Your daughter may not be in the safest of places," Hema noted calmly, ignoring the pup and calmly drinking her tea. "You may want to follow him."

Emil and Marta looked at Hema, horrified. Both scrambled up and allowed Tut to lead them out of the building. As Marta ran by Hema, she stopped and sent a withering glare her way. "If my daughter is hurt in any way, I'll make sure you get what you deserve for it," she promised, her voice low and deadly.

Hema didn't respond as both Emil and Marta left. Alba and Flora began to follow after them, worried for their grand-niece. Hema called out to stop them. "I have some business I wish to attend to with you," she told them. Hema finished the last of her tea and looked sadly at her dress, which had begun to have deep brown splotches that were stiff and unmoving. "It seems my dress has begun to dry. I require some more… dye." The woman eyed the two darkly, a dangerous smile playing on her lips.

* * *

Emil and Marta ran after Tut, their hearts pounding in fear for their child. As they ran, a cloud of darkness burst into existed before it cleared to show the Centurion of Darkness, Tenebrae, running alongside them. "Lord Emil, Lady Marta, is something wrong?" he asked.

"Something's happened to Emerald!" Emil told him. Tenebrae's eyes widened in concern.

"And some woman showed up demanding that we open the Ginungagap. I don't know what it was, but something about her seemed dangerous," Marta added.

Tenebrae focused his gaze ahead of them as he thought deeply. "What was the woman's name?" he asked after a moment.

"Hima or something like that," Marta said. "It was some funky sounding name."

"It was Hema," Emil said, his voice much deeper than before. "Hema Karpos."

Tenebrae and Marta looked at Emil in surprise. "Lord Ratatosk, it has been awhile," Tenebrae greeted his master, giving a slight nod. Marta was shocked. It wasn't very often Ratatosk took over for Emil since he came back from the Ginungagap. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be something good.

"If she is one of Xeralisk's lackeys, then she must be new. I got the feeling she was one of the upper members of the Unborn," Ratatosk told his Centurion.

"I would not be surprised in the least it Xeralisk has gained more servants in the four thousand years since he showed up," Tenebrae agreed.

"What are you two talking about?" Marta asked, confused. "Who's Xeralisk? What do you mean by 'upper members of the Unborn'?"

"I'm sorry, Marta," Ratatosk told her. "We don't have time to explain right now. But just know that Emerald is in grave danger."

They followed Tut to a pier at the port. At the end of the pier standing in a small boat, an elf with cold, black eyes dressed in black from head to toe was standing. His right forearm was charred beyond recognition, with a shining metal claw-like weapon fused to what skin remained. In both his hands he held a rope. Each rope led to a bound and gagged Emerald, dangling helplessly from the rope over the edge. If the man were to let go of either of them, they would fall into the lake, and the weights would pull them down to a watery grave.

But the greatest problem was that there were two Emeralds.

Ratatosk, Marta, and Tenebrae all skidded to a halt at the end of the pier. The elf holding the two Emeralds hostage was far enough away that he was safe and if they were to attack, only one of the two Emeralds could be saved in time.

"Greetings, Ratatosk. We have never met before, so allow me to introduce myself. I am Vladimir Crowe, Fifteenth Lord of the Unborn and Contractor of Gorynych," the elf said, his voice cold. "As you can see, we have your daughter hostage. I'm certain we can all get along fine and nothing bad will have to happen. As I'm sure you've noticed, there are two Emeralds.

"Allow me to explain. If you should give in to our demands, we will let Emerald go free, unbound and unweighted. But if you refuse, then I have a little game set up for fun," he yelled to them, smirking broadly.

Tenebrae gasped in shock. "Contractor of Gorynych? That's impossible! The contract dies with the contractor."

"Emil, what's going on? I'm not doing anything else until you explain to me what is happening," Marta demanded, casting a worried and confused glance towards the two captive Emeralds.

Crowe seemed to notice and his smirk widened even further. "Don't worry, I'll let you have some time to allow the Missus to catch up. I'm sure she's very confused." Ratatosk dearly wanted to hurt the man, but didn't dare for risk of bringing harm to his child.

Ratatosk sighed. "I was hoping he would leave me alone for as long as I was with you, so I never told you about him," he explained. "Xeralisk, the Summon Spirit of Death and Destruction, has always wanted to get into Niflheim. I don't really know why. The Unborn are people he has resurrected and given a portion of his power to, kind of like the pact between me and a Knight of Ratatosk. Except his is more of a slavery contract.

"The Unborn are all exceptionally powerful, with the highest ranked, the Kings and Queens, being on a level completely their own. If I had to fight two of them, I would probably not be able to win. I can go into more detail about all this later, though. For now," Ratatosk pointed at the elf on the ship, "let's focus on him."

Tenebrae turned towards Marta and sat, his tail swishing calmly back and forth, hiding his inner turmoil over the situation well. "Gorynych is also known as the Dragon of Darkness. He was a mighty beast that no one could tame. The elves, using long forgotten magic, managed to seal this beast within an exsphere.

"Whoever should wear this exsphere will have the chance to forge a contract with the Dragon of Darkness. For as long as that person lives, they will be able to call upon Gorynych's power, though they must be strong enough to contain the beast, or he will go on a rampage. This contract ends with the death of the contractor.

"For thousands of years, Gorynych's exsphere was a prize amongst an assassin's guild, where the only way to gain it was to assassinate the current bearer. This was to ensure that only the strong could inherit the dark powers of Gorynych. A side effect of Gorynych is that the memories and abilities of all the previous contractors are stored within the jewel, so each contractor is more powerful than the last.

"If this person somehow managed to keep the contract even after his death, he is not to be taken lightly," Tenebrae finished.

"But why are there two Emeralds?" Marta asked.

Tenebrae shook his head. "I don't know," he answered. "… Unless…" he trailed.

Ratatosk widened his eyes in realization. "Telarra!" he cursed. "That's the only explanation!"

Marta looked confused, but before she could say anything, Ratatosk turned and sent a glare at both Emeralds. "Telarra Waterlance is the Fourth Queen, meaning she is the fourth most powerful Unborn. She is of a race called Proteans, a rare demon from Niflheim that can bear the presence of mana and even thrive in it. They aren't a danger to humanity like other demons, and they live alongside them. They are able to change their form as they please using water, though they can only hold the different form for roughly a year before they need to rest. Not even I'm sure of what they really look like."

Marta's eyes widened in understanding. She covered her mouth in concern for her daughter. "Then, this Telarra person took her form and one of those two is Emerald while the other is Telarra?" she asked.

Ratatosk nodded. "Yes. It looks like Xeralisk isn't holding back this time if he'd go after Emerald."

"I see you have decided to finally indulge in informing your family, Ratatosk," a familiar polite voice spoke. They all turned to see Hema walking towards them, her dress a more vibrant crimson and looking strangely wet. As the hem brushed the ground, it left a light stain of red on the ground behind it.

Tenebrae's eyes widened. "She is a protozoan!" he gasped. "How did Xeralisk manage to find a protozoan?"

The protozoan woman smiled softly and bowed once more. "I am Hema Karpos, Third Queen of the Unborn." She smiled, an uneasy sensation underlying it despite the warmth in it. "I'm afraid your information is a little outdated, Lord Ratatosk. As there can only be five Kings and Queens at a time, Telarra is now the High Lady. I am not allowed to tell you who the new High King is, but we have recently obtained a new one."

Ratatosk shook in fear at those words. "Someone even stronger than that freak of nature was found?" he asked.

Hema frowned at his choice of words, but nodded. "Now, if you would kindly answer my question: Will you open the Ginungagap once more?"

Ratatosk scoffed at the question, shaking his head and shrugging with one hand. "My answer is the same as always. I will never open the door to Niflheim, no matter what Xeralisk does."

Crowe smiled mischievously. "Then allow me to explain the rules of my game. As you can see, I am holding the ropes to both of the Emeralds before you. What you must do, is select one of the two. I will release whichever one you select and pull the other one back on board. You will need to come out here and save the one I released. Hopefully, you choose wisely."

Ratatosk frowned. "Obviously, if we choose right, we get out daughter back. But what happens if we choose wrong?"

Crowe hummed while thinking. "I can't think of anything to say without spoiling anything. We'll just say that you won't enjoy the outcome."

Both Ratatosk and Marta exchanged worried glances. This would be more difficult than it seemed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Are you confused yet?**_

_**Telarra: There are a lot of high-ranking Unborn.**_

_**They're dealing with Ratatosk, Xeralisk undoubtedly acknowledges him as a threat.**_

_**Telarra: I had a good time. The best part is, it's still not over.**_

_**You will indeed continue to screw with people's minds. **_

_**Telarra: Aren't you being kind of mean to Emil by calling him girly?**_

_**No, I'm speaking the truth. When I got the Dawn of the New World and looked at the cover, I spent a good ten minutes staring at Emil trying to figure out if he was a boy or a girl. Seriously, the way his outfit is displayed on the cover has "women's clothing" written all over it. **_

_**Telarra: Well, he does look kind of girly, but it's still clear that he's a guy.**_

_**I do know that he is a guy. It only took one moment for me to decide that he was definitely a guy when I saw him in the actual game. It's just the pose on the cover made his gender difficult to determine.**_

_**Now it is time for a shameless plug.**_

_**Telarra: must you ruin this by asking for that?**_

_**Hey, I worked hard on what is already up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to tell them about it.**_

_**Telarra: I hate advertisements.**_

_**Shut up.**_

_**Anyway allow me to explain what we're talking about. I have decided to put some of my ideas into an original story. You can find this story up on , 's sister site. Just search for my profile there, it's the same as it is here: Storyteller of Darkness. Or you could go to my profile here and click on the link I set up there to go straight to the story. If you do read it, please review. I will be happy to receive them. Don't worry, the AN's are non-existent in that story, so you don't have to deal with me being insane. Also, please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes as there are some. It is a rough draft of the book I wish to one day write, so I don't check it like I do this one.**_

_**Telarra: Are you done?**_

_**Maybe. **_

_**Please leave a review for me! And check out my original story. Both would make me very happy!**_


	20. Chapter 20: Angel of Darkness

_**And here we are! What's going to happen? Will Emerald be safe? Will Xeralisk enter the Ginungagap?**_

_**Brim: Will you flunk out of college?**_

_**You didn't have to ask tha-… O_O**_

_**Brim: … (blink blink)**_

_**O_O …**_

_**Brim: … What?**_

_**You're not even in this story. Why are you here?**_

_**Brim: What, I'm not allowed to bother you just because I'm from you original story? Or is it because I'm a dragon? Or do you not want to have to deal with a hatchling that's older than you?**_

_**-_-' No, it's none of those. I was just wondering why you decided to show up here when you will never show up in this story.**_

_**Brim: Because I felt like it. And to help advertise for my story, since it's still gotten only one review.**_

_**Okay. Fair enough. I suppose I'll allow it just because I like you. Now, explain to the confused readers.**_

_**Brim: Why do I have to?**_

_**Because I said so. Pyre may be your surrogate father, but I am your creator.**_

_**Brim: Fine, I'll do it. I'm one of this psycho's characters from his original story. I'm a Kaiser Dragon. I may only be a hatchling, but that doesn't mean I'm weak. Want more info? Then read my story!**_

_**Yes, yes, that's enough.**_

_**Brim: How come you don't do author's notes in my story?**_

_**Because I'm lazy and I want it to feel more like a book so I can't be there explaining everything for everyone or bothering the readers.**_

_**Brim: Then how come you don't scan it for mistakes as much as this one?**_

… _**(flicks Brim on the nose)**_

_**Brim: OW!**_

_**Okay, that's enough for the AN, let's move on to the chapter!**_

_**Brim: (grumbling) you could have just said you don't want to answer it.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 20: Angel of Darkness

Marta bit her lip and looked swiftly from one Emerald to the other. "Is there any way we can tell Telarra from the real one?"

Tenebrae shook his head. "No. Not unless Telarra has a few minutes left before her transformation is forced to be undone. Once a year, Proteans must reveal their true forms for at least twenty-four hours. Other than that time period, they always have some kind of disguise up."

"What about her mana? Surely you can tell the difference between hers and this Telarra's right?" Marta asked her husband. Ratatosk closed his eyes and growled in frustration.

"No, I can't," he told her. "The Proteans use mana to blend in with society. They can construct a 'mana veil' to produce a fake mana signature. So her mana feels just like Emerald's right now." Ratatosk cursed punched leg. "Dammit! We can't just leave this up to chance!"

Marta frowned and looked down. "What if… Oh, this is too hard. Maybe we'll just have to choose one and pray that we're right."

Tenebrae sat back on his haunches. "It's entirely possible that neither of them are Emerald," he suggested.

"But there's only one Telarra," Marta told him. "How can they both be fake when only one person can imitate Emerald's form?"

Tenebrae huffed and responded with, "I'm only saying another possibility. He never said that the real Emerald was in his custody. This could be an elaborate ruse just to toy with us."

"There's no way that they could manage to pull that off," Ratatosk growled. "Telarra doesn't have the ability to pull something like that off."

"But… then… What are we supposed to do?" Marta asked, her heart falling. All three of them looked over at the ship, indecision and desperation shining in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Telarra was enjoying their looks of hopelessness. _It's so much fun messing with people_, she thought to herself. Suddenly, pain erupted in her back as a black sword pierced her body. She gasped along with the three on the pier, though hers was a gasp of pain, not surprise, and turned to look what had hit her.

Nazo stood there, calmly analyzing her with his unblinking gaze. "I'm afraid your tricks won't work on me, Telarra."

Telarra snarled, but was unable to move to strike him without revealing herself. She was dependent upon Hema to do that for her. But before Hema could intervene, Nazo had already removed his blade from her and cut the ropes connecting her to the two fake Emeralds.

As soon as the ropes were severed, the entire body of both Emeralds lost their shape and splashed into the lake. Ratatosk, Marta, and Tenebrae all gaped as they realized Telarra was, in fact, wearing the guise of Vladimir Crowe.

"But, Telarra has to be in contact with the water if she intends to make it a part of her and mold its image," Ratatosk said.

Telarra seethed, shifting her form to her usual self. "Damn you, Nazo. You ruined my fun!" she screeched, holding her arm out beside her. A tendril of water rose from the lake and came up, molding itself into the shape of a lance in her hands. The spear-shaped volume of liquid solidified into wood and metal, which she used to attack Nazo. Nazo quickly dodged the strike and dove overboard, swimming towards the pier.

Marta realized what had been going on. "Of course, that explains everything! Neither of them were Emerald. Telarra took the place of Vladimir and used her transformation powers to create ropes and body doubles of Emerald. Then she pretended to be him and we assumed that Telarra was one of the fakes!"

Tenebrae had a smug grin on his face. "It seems that neither was Emerald after all. I do believe that my suggestion turned out to be true."

Ratatosk frowned. "You both are forgetting the most important question. If neither of them was Emerald, then where is the real one."

"I believe I can answer that," Vladimir said from the beginning of the pier. In his arms was Emerald, arms fully restrained and claw gauntlet held up to her throat.

"Mom, Dad!" she called out to them, fear in her voice. She didn't understand anything that was going on. Ratatosk and Marta went for their weapons, but Vladimir twitched the claws at his captive's throat, causing a small line of blood to trickle down. Hema smiled softly next to Vladimir.

"It seems that Nazo's interference merely sped up the process; how nice," she noted. A black portal opened beside the two and Telarra stepped out of it, still smoldering over the shortening of her fun.

Nazo reached up and pulled himself onto the pier. He walked next to Ratatosk and gazed calmly at the Lord, Lady, and Queen. "Hello, Ratatosk," he said without looking towards the blonde. "I trust the past millennia have treated you well?"

Ratatosk sent a glare at Nazo. "Just because you helped us see through Telarra's trick doesn't mean we're on the same side, Nazo. I don't know what you're doing, but I sure as hell don't trust you."

Nazo chuckled darkly. "The time has come at last. The fallen shall rise once more; the cursed shall be cleansed; what was shattered will become whole," he said, his voice shivering in anticipation. "And your daughter is the key to it all."

Ratatosk drew his sword and turned it on the bandage covered man. Nazo cast a sparing glance towards the summon spirit. "Don't worry, I have no intent to harm her," he assured. "I merely wish her assistance in a matter most important."

"Nazo, I don't think you quite understand your position," Hema smiled warmly, but something vicious was hidden behind the smile. "You are up against two King-class opponents and the Lord directly beneath you. Unless you have miraculously gained power on par with Master Xeralisk, you don't stand a chance."

Nazo laughed. It started as a low chuckle, but slowly escalated into an insane cackle. Nazo held his fingertips to his face as he threw his head back and let out his mad laughter with all his voice, his entire body convulsing with the sound. "You… really don't… have any idea!" he managed to shout between his laughter. Finally, Nazo calmed down and closed his eternally staring violet eye. "Let me remove my mask!"

Nazo opened his eye, revealing the serpentine crimson orb from before. All three of the Unborn flinched as they felt Nazo's alien presence sift into their minds. Hema frowned darkly. "It seems you developed a way to search our souls without eye contact," she deduced. "But something like that will not give you the required edge."

Vladimir shifted slightly, his expression carefully neutral. "Gorynych is telling me something is different this time," he reported. "He feels… disturbed by Nazo's presence."

Telarra's eyes were wide with fear. "Where have I felt this before?" she asked. "This overwhelming dread?"

The bandages on Nazo's face seemed to stretch to form a devilish smile of their own. "Telarra is one of the few old enough to remember," he said. "Sixty-two thousand, four hundred ninety-three years ago, the first rebellion against Xeralisk occurred. It consisted of only two men, a father and his son."

Telarra nodded absently. She calmly continued for him. "They were both cast into the Evitagen."

Nazo tilted his head and glared at the three. He held out his arm to his side. "Do you know the most fearsome of the father's abilities?" he asked. "It was the Eye of Samael, which allowed him to search the souls of his opponents and if he so willed it, tear the soul to shreds."

Hema scoffed at the man. "Are you trying to tell us that you inherited this 'Eye of Samael' from him?" she questioned. "As if we could be expected to believe such an extravagant lie."

Suddenly, Nazo's arm burst from a small portal between Vladimir's arm and Emerald's throat. Vladimir cursed as he was caught by surprise and forced to release his hostage. But he drew some hidden blades from somewhere faster than anyone could think. He moved to strike Emerald's legs with them, intending to cripple her so she could not run. Before he could throw them, however, Nazo launched himself from a portal into Vladimir's face. Vladimir made to slash at him with his claws, but Nazo merely twisted around the strike and delivered a series of slashes in the blink of an eye, killing the assassin.

Without giving Telarra or Hema time to process this, he grabbed Emerald and dashed through yet another portal to return to Ratatosk and Marta's side. He callously deposited her on the ground, where her mother began to check over her wounds. Tut yipped happily and began to nuzzle the girl, earning a scratch behind the ears for his attention.

"I said the most fearsome was the Eye of Samael, however he was in a league above any King without that gift," Nazo continued. He held out his arms to his side, dark flames bursting to life on his arm-blades. But unlike the flames of Atrum Nex, these were a deep red, almost as deep as the man's hair. "His titles were the Harbinger of Death and the Angel of Darkness. His name…" Nazo crouched as if he was getting ready to sprint. "-was Samyaza. I will teach you to fear that name once more as I carve my lesson into your very souls."

Nazo charged the two women, both preparing to counter whatever he was going to throw at them. But to their immense surprise, he stopped several feet in front of them and cut at the air before them. As the blades of Latem Evitagen were dragged across the air, a sound similar to tearing fabric rent the sudden silence. "Negative Rip!" Nazo cried.

Following the path of the blades was a line that was a deep shade of crimson. The line slowly expanded, revealing a portal of some kind. Screams of agony and moans of the dying and wails of terror roared out of the portal. Both Hema and Telarra took a step back in fear at the sudden sound. "Sink into eternal darkness and suffer for eternity in the land without death," Nazo commanded as the portal stretched towards the two Unborn, disfigured arms bursting out and grappling at them. "Fall into the everlasting misery of the realm that is a negative of this entire world of mortals. Despair as you are dragged into the Realm of Evitagen!"

Telarra swung at the hands grasping for her, but she was quickly overwhelmed. With a cry of fear and desperate struggling, she was dragged through the portal and vanished. Hema was using a combination of martial arts and sharpened mana around her limbs to combat the reaching appendages, weaving out of their way, but she too was soon overwhelmed and pulled within the Realm of Evitagen.

Nazo reached out and plunged his own arm into the portal, looking as if he was searching for something. With a wince, he found it and began to pull, a scream of agony tearing from his throat. From the portal he pulled a withered husk, blades of Latem Evitagen piercing its arms and legs. He carefully dragged the body towards the ground, the blades extending out of the portal. Taking several deep breaths, he pulled the blades from the body one by one, screaming in agony all the while. With each blade removed, one of Nazo's weapons vanished as well.

Finally, Nazo had finished, and the blades retreated back into the portal. With stiff cracks and groaning stretches, the portal to the Evitagen slowly sewed itself shut. Nazo gingerly picked up the body and carried it over to the Castagniers. He carefully placed the body before Emerald and set his glare to her. "Heal it," he commanded.

Ratatosk scowled at Nazo. "And who do you think you are to be giving my daughter orders?" he asked.

Marta looked up at Ratatosk, "Dear, calm down. He helped us get Emerald back; the least you could do is thank him."

Nazo pointed to the husk and said, "You can thank me by having her heal that body."

Emerald eyed the bandaged man warily, but slowly started to gather mana. Marta nodded and began to do so as well to assist her daughter, but Nazo gave her a withering glare, made worse by his demonic eye. "Only the girl can heal that," he told her. "Only the one to make my soul bleed can save the corpse at your feet."

Ratatosk sniffed and looked down at the body. "What happened to this guy, anyway?" he asked, tapping the body's leg with his foot. The dried flesh crumpled at the touch.

Nazo screeched in pain, clutching the spot where Ratatosk's foot had made contact with the body. "Do not touch it!" he hissed. "It is very sensitive."

Tenebrae frowned. He looked up at Nazo and asked, "You mean to tell us that that is your body?"

Nazo nodded. He spoke softly, "I will explain everything. Just do not touch my body and only Emerald may heal it."

Marta and Ratatosk nodded, Emerald only flicking her eyes up from her work on restoring the corpse. Her brow furrowed in concentration, not sure how she was supposed to be able to heal the husk. Ratatosk sighed and with a glow of light and pulse of mana, his ruby red eyes shifted to emerald green. "Please, explain," Emil told Nazo.

Nazo seemed disheartened by Ratatosk shifting with Emil. "I hoped to catch up with Ratatosk for a little longer," he said softly. He shook his head and shrugged. "Oh well, he never liked me anyway."

"Now, I think it would be prudent to explain how this can be your body with you standing right there," Tenebrae suggested.

Nazo answered by lifting up some of the bandages on his chest, revealing that he was hollow within. "I am currently only a soul projection enforcing my will upon these bandages to form a surrogate body. My real body has been locked within the Evitagen for far too long. Allow me to start from the beginning."

Nazo waved his hand over his eye, blinking and returning it to its violet hue. "My true name is Samyaza. I rebelled against Xeralisk, the master of the Unborn, with my son sixty-two thousand, four hundred ninety-three years ago to date. My son and I were both cast into the Evitagen. I was crucified upon several blades of Latem Evitagen, the Cursed Metal, to prevent my escape.

"The curse that the Cursed Metal gets its name from – Withering - was placed upon my body. As such, I lived in a constant world of torment as I could neither die nor live while I was imprisoned in the Evitagen. So I managed to project my spirit and transport it to this plane of existence. I worked under Xeralisk once more, biding my time while I waited for someone with the ability to heal my damaged and broken body to appear, and it seems your daughter is the one."

Emerald shook her head, looking up at the man. "I don't get how _I'm_ supposed to do anything. What can I do that no one else could?"

Nazo seemed to smile at the question. "You are going about it wrong. You must not merely restore the flesh, you must cleanse the curse within it. Break the Withering and my body will be able to restore itself."

Emerald huffed in annoyance. She sent a harsh look of her own at the man. "And how do I do that, Mr. Know-it-all?"

Nazo carefully knelt down and met Emerald's gaze head on. Emerald continued to stare defiantly at the man as he tried to search her soul. "Don't question it, just do it," he told her. Emerald scowled darkly at the words as Nazo broke eye contact. He made it sound so easy.

Muttering choice words to herself about Nazo under her breath, Emerald looked down at the body again and tried one more healing spell. She didn't focus on what to do, she just thought about what she wanted it to do. To everyone's shock, the mummified body suddenly began to regrow, though it kept its coloring of long-rotten meat. Black wings were now distinguishable on the man's back.

"Finally," Nazo breathed, stepping towards his now restored body. "I'll finally be myself again. After all these years," Nazo reached down and touched the body. Suddenly, the bandages that made up the vagrant soul unraveled and wound around the body of Samyaza. Bits of the man's body peeked out between the bandages, since Samyaza was a good two feet taller than Nazo was.

Samyaza sighed as he stood. His face was mostly uncovered, a stray bandage cutting across his mouth and numerous tufts of hair sticking out atop his head. Samyaza shifted his shoulders uncomfortably before he managed to spread his pitch-black wings, stretching. Samyaza continued to stretch his body, bending and flexing in inhuman ways, much to the disgust of his company.

Samyaza turned to look down at the teenager. His left eye was violet, while his right eye was the serpentine Eye of Samael. "I thank you for your assistance," he told her, offering his large hand. Emerald carefully shook it and Samyaza shuddered with a look of bliss on his face at the contact. "Oh, it's been so long since I could feel anything," he crooned.

They made their way back to the mainland, Tenebrae vanishing. Samyaza was almost dancing everywhere as he smelled the air continuously, occasionally licking it. He would sometimes brush his skin, sending shivers up his spine. Samyaza's mouth was stretched so wide it was almost splitting his face in half.

Emil looked at their oddly-behaving companion, slightly unsettled by the man's almost delirious joy and constant displays of his flexibility. He bit his lip before calling out to him, "Samyaza." Said blackish-green-skinned man looked towards Emil. "What are you going to do now?"

Samyaza gave what would have been a toothy grin, if the man had any teeth whatsoever. "I'm going to find somewhere to eat a good meal for the first time in what feels like forever."

"I'm afraid you will have to put that off for now, Nazo," A cold, emotionless voice called out.

Everyone turned to see a man in white and azure with a demonic scythe staring at them calmly. Samyaza frowned, his entire body slouching as he sulked. "Feral, why did you have to come so soon?" he whined. "And my name isn't Nazo, it's Samyaza."

Feral blinked slowly; perhaps he was storing the name and face in his memory, or perhaps he merely didn't care. It was impossible to determine his thoughts. Samyaza ignored Feral's empty look and straightened, scratching his belly and flexing his wings. "I was hoping to have a meal before I went to get my property from you, but I guess I'll have to play with you first."

The man identified as Feral dropped into a ready combat stance. "I was monitoring Hema's mission. Imagine my surprise when I discover that you can create a gate to the Evitagen."

Samyaza laughed bitterly at that. "What surprise? You have no emotion like that, fool." Samyaza glared coldly at the man before him. "Now return Yon to me and I'll spare you a good spanking, you little brat. I'm far above anything you've faced in your pitiful existence. You don't stand a chance against me."

A few portals opened and a man in a desert cloak, another with a strange contraption on his back, and a wolf with a dirt-stained pelt walked out. The man without a cloak held in his hand two withered black roses. He held them out and let them fall, one by one. "The first is for you, Nazo," he reported as the first flower faded to dust. "The second is for Luin."

The cloaked man shook his head sadly and sighed. "Such an unfortunate city. Perhaps it's just how Fate willed it to be. Why is it that the City of Hope is Luin? After all, its name rhymes perfectly with ruin. The reason for this, I cannot see."

The wolf merely growled viciously.

Samyaza was surprised by the appearance of the other three. "William FlameSword, Zephyr WindJavelin, and Cowan EarthenClaw," he said with surprise. "It seems Xeralisk really didn't like me sending his subordinates into the Evitagen."

Samyaza turned to the Castagniers and ordered, "Go to your home, gather what is necessary, and flee."

Emil's face set into a mask of determination. "We can't leave you behind!" he shouted.

"There's no way you'll be able to handle all four of these guys on your own!" Marta exclaimed. "Let us help you."

"I didn't heal you just so you could get yourself turned into meat salad," Emerald said with a frown.

Samyaza threw his head back and laughed. "My compassion has always been a weakness in situations like this. I did the same when my son and I were cast into the Evitagen, making it so he could hopefully escape while I was cursed." The tall man ruffled all of their hair, smiling broadly. "You will only hold me back. I fight better alone than with a group. Now go," Samyaza turned to face his opponents. "I will need to teach these upstarts some respect."

Emil opened his mouth to continue to argue, but a monstrous voice slithered into his mind. _Go now, you fools. The Harbinger of Death is far above the capabilities of any mortal, whether they are true Unborn or not._

Emil turned to his wife and daughter, guessing from their faces that they too had heard the voice . They all gave Samyaza one last glance before they ran off. Samyaza eyed his opponents, his gaze locking on William. "It's been a long time since we've met face to face, William FlameSword," he said, smiling broadly. "It was rather nice seeing you develop over these thousands of years."

William cocked an eyebrow at his declaration. "Pardon, Nazo? You speak as if you knew me before you joined the Unborn."

Samyaza sighed, his eyes falling slightly. "I suppose I'm a little more difficult to recognize right now, especially since I only just now got my body back," he admitted. "But surely you haven't forgotten your dear old Uncle Samyaza, have you?"

William's eyes widened in fear. He tore off his cloak and pulled out Flesh and Bone. "This will be a difficult mission if you are indeed the Angel of Darkness."

Samyaza stretched his wings and fell into a ready stance. They sky darkened and turned a deep grey as clouds seemed to just appear. "Well, let's begin your lesson in humility."

Feral burst into the New Moon while Zephyr leapt into the air, the contraption on his back falling beneath his feet and spinning rapidly. It turned out to be some kind of giant fan that enabled him to float in the air. The four javelins within the fan flew out and began to circle the Second Lord, Zephyr grabbing the most ornate one from the bunch and holding it tightly. William summoned his Magma Skin and EarthenClaw charged forward, letting loose a stalagmite.

Samyaza calmly bent around the sharp spikes of the earth spell and sent the werewolf flying back with a firm kick to his mouth. William flew at the Angel of Darkness, only for every swing of his swords to be dodged as William bent his body as if he didn't have any bones. Three javelins flew down towards the man while he was distracted, only for Samyaza to slip away with a portal beneath his feet.

The portal opened in front of Zephyr, where Samyaza leapt out and delivered three punches, the third imbued with the flames of Atrum Nex. The first two produced audible cracks, while the third sent the man flying to crash into a wall with enough force to make it collapse upon him. "Black Fist!"

Feral roared viciously and swiped at Samyaza. The hyper-flexible man bent under the attack and stepped closer to Feral, making Feral's longer reach pointless. Samyaza grabbed the weapon and kicked Feral into the air. He leapt up and smashed the man into the ground, his arms engulfed in ebony flames again. The fires continued to blaze as Samyaza fell upon his opponent, repeatedly slamming his fists into the Second King, leaving blazing scorch marks behind. "Dark Onslaught!"

Samyaza straightened and turned to his other two foes, twirling the demonic scythe Feral once possessed nonchalantly. He held out his hand, face down, and two orbs of black fire fell to the ground. "Dark Seeker-Flame!" Trails of fire blazed to life when the small orbs touched the ground. They burned after EarthenClaw and William, striking them and giving them severe burns.

Samyaza smirked. "Now, next time you should all be a little more patient in dealing with an old man like myself. I'm the elder of every single one of you."

Suddenly, a surge of dark mana erupted behind him. Samyaza turned to see Feral rising up, body now coated in black organic armor. "Solar Eclipse!" he snarled. Zephyr rose from the rubble and hopped onto his giant fan once more. William and EarthenClaw merely staggered to their feet.

Zephyr sneered at the man. "Boast after you are sure we will stay down. You look like a fool otherwise."

* * *

Emil opened the door to his aunt and uncle's home to meet a horrid sight. His aunt and uncle were lying atop the table with their guts torn open. Blood and gore coated everything in sight, a single, conspicuously human-shaped patch the only thing not drenched in the scarlet fought back gagging as Marta and Emerald both looked around him to see what had made him freeze. All three of them were disgusted and horrified by what they saw.

"Who could have done this?" Marta asked. "And why?"

Emil shook his head. "It might have been that Hema woman. I don't know why she would do it, but she was the last one we saw them with."

"She just callously kills people for no good reason?" Emerald gagged. "These people are monsters."

They quickly gathered what they needed. Emerald strapped her sword to her back so the handle was poking just over her right shoulder. She sighed in relief at finally having the weapon on her. She didn't enjoy hurting anything, but it made her feel safer after everything she had been through.

They left the building, silently mourning the fact that they couldn't give their relatives a proper burial. But the mana fluctuating madly in the direction of where Samyaza was fighting discouraged any such activity, along with the stern orders from the strange voice.

They quickly abandoned Luin, noticing the light returning as they left the city. Emil gave one last look back, noticing a tower of black fire raging in the middle of the city.

* * *

Samyaza looked to them all and grinned widely, revealing his toothless gums. "You're all definitely tougher than I gave you credit for. But I'm afraid your endeavors are fruitless. I have regained Yon, so anything you do is pointless."

"I will not allow Yon to remain in your hands," Feral vowed, his voice menacing and harsh.

Samyaza sighed. He vanished into a portal and reappeared behind the half-demon and the werewolf, sending both flying back with kicks. "I'm afraid I've won," he said, forming an orb of Atrum Nex energy in his hand. He let it fall to the ground, a wall of the ebony fire leaping around him. "DarkFirewall! Only Feral can bypass these fires and by the time he manages to trudge over here, I will have completed my ritual. Now, allow me to show you the dimensions of the impassable chasm between your abilities and mine."

Samyaza held Yon out behind him and Yon began to spin rapidly, becoming a blurred disk. "O ye who walketh beside Death," he chanted. William and Earthenclaw charged the Harbinger. But the ebony flames gathered and blasted them back. "Thy power be his and his power be thine…" Zephyr tried to pierce the flames with his javelins, but they were repelled. "Heareth mine voice and ignoreth not mine cries…" Zephyr then hopped off his fan and lifted it up to point it at the circle of fire. It began to spin insanely fast, trying to blow the fires out with winds exceeding one hundred miles per hour. It failed. "Awaken the heart that slumbers within this pair…" Samyaza raised the still spinning scythe above his head, Atrum Nex flames bursting to life on the weapon. Feral was stalking over towards the Harbinger of Death, but the armor restricted his movement far too much. That was the weakness of Solar Eclipse: Feral's speed suffered to the point of uselessness.

Samyaza craned his head and gazed into the disk of fire above his head. "And call hither the true Flames of Destruction!" He yelled, grinning madly. "Come forth, Fragment of Destruction!" The ebony flames that had gathered around Yon exploded intensely, forming a towering black inferno. The ground beneath the spiral seemed to slowly fade away to dust beneath the blazing heat of the flames. The fires morphed and twisted. A shockwave forced all of the Unborn to fight to remain standing. A gaping maw opened in the raging inferno of dark fire. Then, as abruptly as they started, the flames died away.

What was revealed was a ten-foot-tall figure made entirely out of ebony fire. His body crackled and hissed as he stretched out his massive fifty-foot wings of fire. The being's arms rested at its sides and it appeared to lack legs all together as the lower half of its body was a single pillar wider at the base than the top. Calmly, the entity raised its head and opened its eyes. The right eye was nothing more than a glowing sphere of red light, while the left was an eye with a vertical pupil and a golden iris. The being of fire spread its arms wide and screeched. "Come hither, foolish mortals. Thy destruction hath been assured," it seethed, its voice warbling and shifting constantly. "Thou hast challenged a dragon when thou art mere ants. Now, know thine own foolishness and repent as thou faceth this Fragment of Destruction."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Brim: Okay, I've seen a lot of things in my short life, but if anything qualifies as overkill, it would be that. I mean, seriously, he was already handing their butts to them. He didn't need to go and activate a god-mode, did he?**_

_**Samyaza is a little trigger happy right now. After all, he's kind of been unable to use his true power or real body for roughly 63,000 years.**_

_**Brim: He's still going way over the top.**_

_**He knows what he's doing! He doesn't need you to point it out! Besides, I planned this from the start. I'm happy with how the Fragment of Destruction turned out. **_

_**Brim: There's a reason for him doing all this, right?**_

_**Yep. I'm not going to tell you.**_

_**Brim: Fine. This freak isn't going to show up in my story, is he?**_

_**Nope. He'll show up in your world, but that will be a different story for a different character set. **_

_**Brim: Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap. **_

_**Lazy dragon. You're always riding on Pyre's shoulders anyway and you spend half the time sleeping. **_

_**Brim: ZZZZZZZZZZ**_

… _**Fine, screw you too. **_

_**The focus kind of got away from Emil/Ratatosk and Marta and Emerald, but it is important. This is a very important piece of plot. And for the heck of it, listen to **_**Angel of Darkness**_** by Alex C. featuring Yasmin K. while Samyaza is kicking butt. Just go to youtube and type in Angel of Darkness. The song helped inspire Samyaza being epicly badass.**_

_**Good news, I actually have the next chapter done already. I'm just withholding it because I had this chapter done before I updated the last one and I kind of like being one chapter ahead. It gives me time to plan. **_

_**Please review!**_


	21. Chapter 21: Fragment of Destruction

_**Welcome back! Sorry about Brim getting in here last chapter. I promise it won't happen again.**_

_**Emerald: but I kind of liked Brim. He was funny.**_

_**Emerald, my dear, you can talk to him later in my head. Now, let's get on with this exhibition of excessive force.**_

_**Response to anonymous reviews!**_

_**Emerald: Seriously, why is Samyaza going so far?**_

_**All will be explained. **_

_**Emerald: I hate it when people keep secrets from me.**_

_**Well, then you're going to love this entire story!**_

_**Emerald: What?**_

_**Nothing. Just speaking of the future in the present as it slowly becomes the past. **_

_**Emerald:… You're messing with me, aren't you?**_

_**Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. I may be speaking lies, but I may be speaking truths. In fact, I could be mixing one with the other, and you must merely decipher the fact from the fiction in order to obtain that which must be gained. **_

_**Emerald: Fine, we get it, you like speaking cryptically, now start the stupid chapter!**_

_**But I have a fun fact for everyone!**_

_**Emerald: (sigh) what is it?**_

_**Ein Soph Aur. If Wikipedia is to be trusted (which my college textbook says it can be, no joke) then Ein Soph Aur can actually be translated to "the Eternal Light". Meanwhile Atrum Nex is Latin for "dark death".**_

_**Emerald: So?**_

_**They're opposites! If you translate Atrum Nex as "Dying Darkness" instead, then they are exact opposites!**_

_**Emerald: That's very interesting. What does it have to do with anything?**_

_**Everything. Hee hee hee!**_

_***Gasp* I updated again only two days after the last one? Be careful, I might start updating like crazy at this rate. **_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 21: Fragment of Destruction

The entity stood within the crater formed by the flames unleashed as it was summoned. All of the Unborn stared at the being with shock, confusion, and wonder painted on their faces. Feral felt something stir at the sight of the creature that they now faced.

"What the hell just happened?" Earthenclaw asked. "One moment we are trying to attack that rotten wretch, now we are faced with something that looks like it belongs in a fairytale! And where did Samyaza go?"

The entity of black fire raised its arms and flexed its wings. "Our name doth not exist anymore. Samyaza and Yon have fused themselves into Us and transcended above thy mortal comprehension. We art the Fragment of Destruction! Thou canst struggle as much as thee like, but We cannot be defeated by the likes of thee."

William stared at the Fragment of Destruction. "Our orders are to kill Samyaza. If what you say is true, and you are a fusion of Samyaza and Yon, then we must destroy you."

The Fragment of Destruction laughed, the sound causing all of its foes to tremble. Its voice rumbled like a mountain crumbling to the ground; it howled like a tornado raging across the plains; it burned like a fire; it roared like the raging rapids of a river. Something instinctive in every single one of them screamed at them to flee.

"If thou dost think thou canst harm Us, We implore thee to make the attempt," the Fragment of Destruction chuckled. It pulled its massive wings in close and spread its arms wide. "We am feeling quite generous today, as I have finally reclaimed what I had lost so long ago. I will allow thee each to strike me with a single attack without repercussion. Do not wasteth this opportunity I hath bestowed upon thee."

Zephyr snarled at the entity. "He is mocking us!" he yelled. "I will not be slandered by a wretch such at him!" The man pulled in his javelins so they formed a rotating triangle before him. He held the one in his hand out so it was in the center of the triangle. "If he is foolish enough to give us one free attack, then I will not waste it. I will show him why he shouldn't underestimate us!"

A green runic circle appeared beneath his feet as the mana in the air began to warp to his will. "Winds that traverse the earth, heed my commands! Gather here, now, and reveal the true power that lies within you! Grind my pathetic foes into the dust they are and scatter their remains to the four corners of the world!" He chanted as the wind around the Fragment of Destruction began to circle the entity. "Tornado!"

The winds erupted into an enormous funnel of bladed mana. Earthenclaw commanded the earth to grasp him so he wouldn't be caught in the ultimate spell while William anchored himself with his swords. Even Feral had to grab something so he was not pulled into the turbulent winds. The spell ripped its surroundings to shreds and pelted the one caught within it with the debris. Slowly, the wind died and the cloud of destruction obscuring the Fragment of Destruction fell. Zephyr's eyes widened in shock as it was revealed the entity seemingly unharmed. Upon a second look, though, the wings on its back were ripped off, but they were reforming before their very eyes.

"The wind mage hath made his strike. If thou should strike again, We will strike thee down where thou stands" the flaming being said.

Everyone gritted their teeth and bit back their despair. "He cannot be invincible," William whispered. He glanced at Earthenclaw, who tilted his head at him. "Shall we work together, old friend?"

Earthenclaw snorted and looked away. "I will only do it because it is our only hope. Do not think I enjoy it, demon," he growled.

The two began to cast spells, William wrapping his wings around himself with his back hunched and Earthenclaw closing his eyes and sitting on his haunches.

William's chanting started first. "O flames that dwell deep within the earth, rise up and swallow my enemies whole. Consume their flesh and devour their bones. Erase all evidence of their existence from the world with your purging fires! Burst forth and erupt in a show of your mighty power!"

"Ground that shelters, ground that protects," Earthenclaw recited, the brown runic circle shining brightly. "Turn your shield upon those you embrace. Let it crumble and crush those who oppose me. Show your devotion to the one who cherishes you the most!"

"Pyroclastic Flow!"

"Earth Shatter!"

The ground beneath the Fragment of Destruction bulged and exploded, a massive pillar of super-heated ash spewing from the broken maw. The ash gathered in a cloud before collapsing upon its target. Then, the earth seemed to grow fingers sharp as claws. The claws plunged into their target hidden within the still settling ash before they formed a dome above it. Then, they abruptly crumbled into boulders and fell upon the being trapped within.

Both EarthenClaw and William shined for a moment. "Together now!" William cried.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you!" EarthenClaw snarled.

Earthenclaw pulled a massive chunk of earth from the ground the size of a large hill and tossed it in the air, following it. He landed and began to steer the massive rock towards the still settling dust cloud of their foe. William flew up and spread his hands towards the falling rock. Earthen claw leapt off of it and William poured fire onto it, sending it rocketing down and burning so hotly the stone began to melt. "This is the end!" they shouted at the same time, "Armageddon!"

The spell was about to crash into the ground, where it would erupt in an explosion large enough to level half the city. Before it could connect, however, a massive stream of black fire came out of the dust cloud. The giant meteor began to fade to dust as the fire burned and consumed the entire rock. EarthenClaw and William balked at the sheer power of the attack.

The dust settled to reveal a heavily injured Fragment of Destruction. Both wings and one arm were gone, along with a large chunk of its torso and half of its head. Its remaining arm was stretched out, burning more strongly than the rest of its body. But even as they watched, the damage faded, the flames reclaiming the space they once occupied.

"We allowed one free attack each," the Fragment of Destruction hissed. "Joint-spells count as two attacks, thus I countered it." The fragment moved out of the enormous crater, leaving a trail of black fire as it moved and seemingly gliding across the ground. "Only one of thee has an attack left. Choose it wisely, for it shalt be thy last."

Feral's eyes were wide and hate was oozing from every pore of his body. "I remember you!" he hissed. "I REMEMBER YOU!" he roared as he broke into a slow run, surprising all of his comrades. They had never seen him go faster than a steady lurch in the Solar Eclipse. Both of his arms began to wrap themselves in Atrum Nex fire. When he was merely three feet from the entity, he unleashed the power he had gathered: a full-strength Atrum Nex at point-blank.

The power erupted before it could fully form. But, to everyone's shock, the fires were merely sucked into the Fragment of Destruction. All of the injuries it had sustained faded as the ebony flames became a part of the being.

The Fragment of Destruction's ebony hand lashed out and grasped Feral by the throat. "Thou hast chosen poorly," it said.

Zephyr fell to his knees in defeat as he stared at the entity they were fighting in horror and awe. "It's a god," he whispered. "It can only be a god! No mortal could withstand all of those attacks!"

The Fragment of Destruction tossed Feral aside like he was a sack of potatoes, firmly embedding the armored King in a stone wall nearby. "Thou hast performed the attacks upon mine body and We did not attack, as promised. Now that thou hast given in to the despair that thou shouldst no doubt feel, We will end thy misery."

The entity held its hands above its head, pouring the flames of its body into an orb of ebony fire. "Thou dost useth mine technique, but thy master doth not allow thee to tap into its true strength. Allow me to reveal to you the true form of Atrum Nex, the Dying Darkness."

A sphere twenty feet wide was hurled at William and EarthenClaw, who were still recovering from their failed joint-spell. They tried to get out of the way, but the arte struck them head on. However, instead of erupting, it continued on, tearing through the city and burning everything in its path. EarthenClaw and William had been left behind as heavily charred bodies, William being next to nothing but bones.

Zephyr gazed at his fallen comrades in horror. "We shouldn't have challenged him," he babbled, "Who are we, mere mortals, to challenge a god like him? What could we possibly hope to do?"

"We are glad that thou understand the gravity of thy actions," the Fragment of Destruction said, standing next to the half-human. Zephyr fell onto his butt as he turned to look upon the entity of destruction. He scrambled to his knees and prostrated himself before the being.

"I humbly accept my divine punishment. I merely ask what the name of the god that stands before me is," he said, fear painting his voice.

The Fragment of Destruction laughed once more. "Our name was taken from Us when We were cast from the heavens. We are but a fragment of what We once were." The Fragment of Destruction reached out its hand. "But We will tell you what our name once was, little mortal. We were once known as Samael." With that declaration, the Fragment of Destruction turned Zephyr into a charred corpse like the others. It then turned and made its way to Feral.

Feral groaned as he finally pried himself from the wall. He fell to his knees and panted. The Fragment of Destruction reached down and grasped Feral by the throat. "I wonder if there is a man beneath that shell you wear, Feral MoonScythe," it mused. Feral gasped as the entity plunged its hand into his chest, tearing through the armor like it wasn't even there. The Fragment of Destruction placed its other hand next to the crack formed and began to tear the armor off of Feral, blood gushing out only to turn to crimson steam against the entity's burning body. Feral screamed hysterically as his body was ripped apart.

Suddenly, a scythe fell and lopped the head off of the invincible being, causing it to drop Feral to the ground. "Xeralisk," it said, not harmed despite the loss of its head. It turned as the head regenerated.

Xeralisk had leapt away, seeming to glare at the entity. "I have come at last, Sota. I am what you wanted from the beginning, yes?"

The Fragment of Destruction made a noise of confirmation. Xeralisk sighed. "I would have come sooner, but I had to send someone into the Evitagen to recover the two you trapped there. I assume you want to clash again."

"Of course! Don't think We will allow thee to merge with Apoll like last time. We will no longer tolerate thy pointless endangerment of this world."

Xeralisk cackled madly. "Our fight very well could end the world! Remember what happened last time we fought? If Ratatosk had not closed off the Ginungagap, this world would still be suffering for our actions!"

The Fragment of Destruction held its arms to its sides. "Enough talk," it growled. "We shall settle this as it was meant to be."

Xeralisk prepared to fight the giant effigy of ebony fire. They both lunged at the same time, only for them to slam into an invisible wall of sorts between them. An angry voice called out to them, "Both of you will stop this immediately."

Both turned to see Wyrd standing near the ruined fountain, arms folded and glaring angrily. Beside him was a man in a white kimono with skin so pale it was almost translucent. His hair was even whiter than his skin and his eyes were a glaring red. "Wyrd, the God of Fate," Xeralisk growled, "and Cosmos, the God of Space."

"To what do We owe the unexpected pleasure of thy visit, O gods?" the Fragment of Destruction asked.

Cosmos snapped his fingers and both the skeleton and the being of fire were pushed farther apart. Between them appeared a small girl wearing a white ball dress with red trim. Her blonde hair was tied in pigtails by red ribbons. A white witch's hat with red trim that was too large for her rested upon her head. "You've both been very naughty," she giggled. "So naughty the High Council decided that we needed to stop you both before your fight went across dimensions."

The Fragment of Destruction began to shake. "Goddess of Magic, Anastasia," he breathed.

Anastasia giggled again and waved to the entity. "Hello there, Fragment of Sammy! I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry for splitting you up like that. It wasn't my decision. Please don't hate Anastasia," she said, almost whimpering at the end.

Xeralisk ignored the two and turned his eyeless gaze to Wyrd. "As Fragments, we are part of the mortal world. Why do you interfere in out fight," he demanded.

Wyrd sighed and shook his head. "Even when you are separated, the two halves of Samael the Damned attempt to destroy each other. We cannot allow another clash like the past to occur." Wyrd leveled an empty stare at Xeralisk. "Now, gather your pawns and retreat. We will deal with your other half."

Xeralisk stood there for a moment, but spat before he vanished into a portal, the Unborn scattered about the devastated battlefield fading as well. Wyrd turned his look to the Fragment of Destruction. "Anastasia, separate him."

Anastasia smiled bashfully and rubbed the back of her head. "I'm really sorry about this. I'll try to make it hurt as little as possible. Please forgive Anastasia." She stretched out her hand and chanted in an unknown language. The Fragment of Destruction screeched and held its head in its hands. Suddenly, the fires faded and Samyaza and Yon were thrust in opposite directions.

Samyaza panted as he climbed to his feet. Wyrd walked up and gazed down upon the Angel of Darkness with a heavy frown. "What could make you feel that it was a proper time to try to attack Naht, Sota?"

Samyaza smiled viciously and started to giggle. "I found her!" he declared. Wyrd raised his eyebrows and Wyrd continued. "I found the Fragment of Life earlier. She is in Woden's custody. And now, I found the Fragment of Creation! I finally found her! I can finally be whole again!" he fell into hysterics as Wyrd shook his head.

"You are such a fool," he sighed. Cosmos walked over with Yon in his hands. Wyrd took the weapon from the God of Space and plunged the spiked end into Samyaza's chest, causing the man to begin to cough up blood. "It doesn't matter what you do, we will not allow the return of Samael. Any of them."

Samyaza coughed and laughed at the same time. "Fine, I'll return to my place of slumber," he laughed. "But know that I will continue my campaign, Wyrd. The yearning in my soul will never be removed until I am whole once more!"

Wyrd pulled the demonic scythe from Samyaza's chest and glanced towards Cosmos. Cosmos nodded and held out his hand. The same deep red portal Samyaza had summoned to toss Hema and Telarra into the Evitagen appeared. Samyaza continued his coughing laughter, the strip of cloth in front of his mouth stained red as he was dragged into the Evitagen. As the Angel of Darkness was swept away, the clouds faded from the sky and the bright blue expanse returned to normal.

Wyrd sighed and placed rubbed his temples. "Thank you both for your assistance in this matter. I am glad we were able to spare at least part of Luin,"

Cosmos nodded. He spoke, his voice echoing throughout the area, "I had forgotten how powerful merely the Fragment of Death and the Fragment of Destruction were. I am happy we could avert this catastrophe before it occurred."

Anastasia came bounding up to Cosmos, slipping her hand in his and bouncing happily. "Hey, I want to see Ratty again! Can we go see Ratty? Please? Please Please Please _Puh-lease_!" she begged.

Wyrd smiled once more at the young-looking Goddess's energy. "Very well, Anastasia, you and Cosmos can go say hello to Ratatosk and his family. I will return Yon to the one who needs it."

Cosmos nodded and turned to look down at Anastasia. "Shall we go, then?" he asked. Anastasia giggled and nodded enthusiastically.

* * *

Emil, Marta, and Emerald were all resting near a forest. As they were fleeing Luin like Samyaza had told them to, the sky became progressively brighter. Whenever they looked back, they saw a dark splotch staining the sky above Luin.

Emerald sniffed and cuddled Tut to her chest. The young pup whined and licked his mistress's face, trying to cheer her up. They finally had a chance to mourn Alba and Flora. It seemed so unreal, the scene was like something out of a horror story. Emerald was certain that by now, nothing remained of Luin.

"Emerald," Marta called, gaining her daughter's attention. "Will you be alright?" she asked, concern in her voice. Emerald sniffed and nodded. She looked towards her father, who was staring into space.

"I'm more worried about Dad," she said, "He was really close to Uncle Alba and Aunt Flora."

A shroud of darkness appeared, accompanied by a soft humming. Tenebrae appeared, sitting on his haunches and looking contemplatively at his master. "Lord Emil, will you be alright?" he asked.

Emil seemed to snap out of something and turned to Tenebrae. "Huh? Oh, Tenebrae. What are you doing here?"

"I have come to answer any questions you may have about the Unborn," he explained. "Because it takes so much energy for Lord Ratatosk to show himself, I felt that I should allow him a chance to rest and explain things in his stead."

"Well, I guess you should start from the beginning then," Emil said, his voice still carrying a hint of sadness.

"Yes, well, that is rather… difficult to do," Tenebrae told them.

"Why?" Emerald asked, curious.

"Because I'm not entirely sure where the beginning is," the Centurion told them. "Xeralisk was present on Aselia even before the elves arrived on Derris-Kharlan and planted the Giant Kharlan Tree. Xeralisk is the leader of what he has called the Unborn, and he is the Summon Spirit of Death and Destruction.

"The Unborn are made through an enslavement pact, where the pact maker is given purpose in their existence by the pact-offerer. Normally, the pact ends with the pact maker's death, but Xeralisk has made death a part of the pact, therefore ensuring that as long as they exist, they are bound to him.

"As with other summon spirits, the summon spirit lends their power to the pact maker, so the Unborn are harder to kill than the average person. As for when exactly Xeralisk began to form these puppets of his, I cannot say."

"I can!" an excited voice said. Everyone leapt back in surprise as a petite girl in a white dress with red trim and a matching witch's hat too big for her head came from nowhere and jumped on Tenebrae's back. Tenebrae jolted in surprise and tried to throw the girl off of him, but she only clung tighter and laughed excitedly. "Yay! This is fun, Doggie!"

Tenebrae stopped and glared up at the girl on his back. "If you would be so kind as to get off of me, I would greatly appreciate it," he told her. "And my name isn't 'Doggie', it's Tenebrae."

The girl giggled and wrapped her arms around Tenebrae's neck. "Doggie is so cute!"

The three Castagniers shared a look of amusement. Marta and Emil were remembering when Colette and Tenebrae met for the first time while Emerald was just holding back her laughter. After a moment, Marta looked to the girl and smiled sweetly. "Hello there, what's your name?" she asked.

The girl looked up from stroking Tenebrae's head, much to the Centruion's chagrin, and smiled sweetly at Marta, fixing her hat. "My name is Anastasia!" she chirped. Then she saw Emil and her smile grew even bigger. "Ratty!" she cried as she lunged from Tenebrae's back to glomp the man around the neck. Emil was so surprised he almost fell over. "It's been too long, Ratty! How come you never play with me anymore? Why don't you visit me? How com…" she asked, letting fly a barrage of questions.

Marta and Emerald couldn't help but laugh at the Knight of Ratatosk's misfortune. Even Tenebrae let loose a chuckle, happy that he was no longer the center of the girl's attention.

"Anastasia, please behave yourself," a man said. They all turned to see a ghostly pale man with red eyes not too far away, smiling at Anastasia's antics. "And ask questions one at a time, that way he can actually answer."

Anastasia pouted, but let go of Emil and scampered over to the man. "But it's been so long since I've seen him! I've been missing him since Mommy and Daddy left!" she whined.

The man smiled and fixed her hat for her. "It's alright, just be sure to contain yourself better," he calmly reprimanded her. He turned to the others and bowed slightly. "I apologize for Anastasia's behavior. She is still the youngest of us all, and I'm almost afraid we spoil her sometimes."

"It's perfectly fine," Marta said, smiling. "Mind if I ask for your name?"

The man smiled. "I am Cosmos."

Emerald tilted her head, staring at the man. Something deep inside her felt… strange when she saw him. Same thing with Anastasia. "Can we help you?" she asked, her sadness forgotten for now.

Anastasia bounded over to Emil again and smiled brightly up at him, her blue eyes glittering. "I just wanted to see Ratty again! It's been a long time since we talked."

Emil seemed taken aback by this. "Um," he stammered, not wanting to look the girl in the eye. He looked towards his family and whispered, "What should I do?"

Tenebrae sat once more and closed his eyes. "It appears she desires to meet with Lord Ratatosk. If possible, you should switch over to him."

Emil nodded, "I'll try." He took a deep breath and with a pulse of mana and a bright light, Emil and Ratatosk switched control. Ratatosk looked down at Anastasia. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, uncertain.

Anastasia was ecstatic. "Ratty!" she squealed, glomping Ratatosk once more. "Don't you remember me, Ratty?" she asked.

Ratatosk seemed surprised by the question. Cosmos seemed to notice this and pried her away from the man. "Anastasia, dear, why don't you make some tea so we can all talk over it?" he asked kindly.

Anastasia nodded happily and waved her hand, muttering something incoherent. Instantly, a blanket appeared, a white china tea set decorated with red roses set up upon it. There were enough cups for all of them, including Tenebrae, and steam was coming from the pot's tip. Everyone blinked in surprise at what had happened, but followed Cosmos and Anastasia as they sat down.

Anastasia poured everyone tea once she readjusted her hat once more. Afterwards, she sat down next to Tenebrae, cuddling against him, to the Centurion's annoyance.

Emerald took a sip of her tea, eying the young girl. "Anastasia?" the hyperactive child looked at her happily. "Why do you wear that hat if you have to keep fixing it?"

"It was a gift from Mommy!" she declared happily, the hat slipping down and covering her eyes, forcing her to push it back up.

Emerald made a small 'Oh' sound and went silent. Cosmos took a sip of his tea before he looked at the group. "You wished to know the beginning of the Unborn, correct?" he asked. When he was met with a positive response, he paused.

"The Unborn are Xeralisk's way for making up for his loss of power since he was split," Cosmos explained.

"What do you mean by 'split'?" Marta asked.

"That's an easy one," Anastasia giggled. "Xerry used to be part of Daddy, but I had to split him into pieces after he killed Mommy."

Cosmos sighed as everyone frowned in confusion. "Anastasia, dear, could you let me explain things to them? I know you just want to help, but it's easier if I tell them, all right?" he told her.

Anastasia pouted, but Emerald let Tut walk over to her. After a few sniffs, Tut licked the girl's hand and she was quickly occupied with the tiny wolf cub. Cosmos smiled at the sight but quickly returned his attention to the others. "Xeralisk is a Fragment of the God of Death and Destruction, Samael the Damned. You see, when a god dies, they are not truly dead, merely split into pieces of themselves, each with a portion of their power. Samael the Damned, as he is now known, was executed after he killed his lover, Psyche, the Goddess of Life and Creation."

Everyone's eyes widened. She looked to Anastasia and asked, "Anastasia said 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' when she talked about Psyche and Samael dying. So, does that mean that little girl is…"

"She is the daughter of Samael and Psyche. Allow me to explain something. I am the God of Space. She is the Goddess of Magic. Fitting for her heritage, yes?"

Emerald frowned. "But why is that girl, who seems so happy with everything, the Goddess of Magic?" she asked.

Cosmos smiled as if he anticipated the question. "It only makes sense. What can magic do?"

"Magic can be used offensively, defensively, and for support in battle," Marta said.

Cosmos nodded. "Precisely. Magic can be used to kill and destroy, while it can also be used to create and bring life."

"Magic is neither good nor evil," Anastasia said, earning everyone's attention. Her eyes were a glowing magenta. Her cheerful demeanor was gone, now replaced by a serious, almost detached air. Even her hat seemed to behave itself, resting atop her head without giving the girl any trouble. "Just as death can be a blessing or a curse, and life can be both cruel and kind, so magic can be used for both good and evil."

Everyone except Cosmos was shocked at Anastasia's behavior change. Anastasia looked up at Ratatosk, gently petting Tut. "You don't remember me at all, do you, Ratatosk?"

Ratatosk seemed taken aback, but shook his head. "No, I'm sorry," he told her. Anastasia sighed, but did nothing more.

Cosmos cleared his throat to regain everyone's attention and continued. "Because Samael is one of the eldest Gods and is therefore exceedingly powerful, we split him into four pieces. One of them is Xeralisk. The other is Samyaza, who you no doubt met today."

Before anyone could ask a question, Cosmos raised his hand to halt them. "However, though Samyaza and Xeralisk can merge with one of the other Fragments of Samael, they cannot all become one being again. It requires a specific form of magical energy, or mana in this case, to be able to merge."

Emerald frowned. "What about Psyche? Since she died, aren't her fragments scattered? Can't you resurrect her?"

Anastasia shook her head. "We don't know where the Fragments are. Samael was killed in a way that his memory was preserved and the Fragments were aware of their power. But Psyche was not killed in such a way. We don't know how many fragments there are or where they could be. This world isn't the only one there is. She could be scattered across all of them for all we know. And we have no way of finding them."

Cosmos rubbed the back of his neck. "Though it seems Samyaza claims to have found them all," he added.

"You don't believe him?" Ratatosk asked. "Why not?"

"Samyaza was the first of the Unborn," Cosmos explained. "He was the first to die in this world. Death surrounds him like a shroud. He is much like Samael in that he is unstable and flighty. He could have convinced himself of something, but that doesn't mean it is true."

Cosmos looked to the sky and sighed. "I'm afraid it is almost time we left," he told them.

Anastasia looked at Ratatosk again. "Promise to remember me next time I visit?" she asked him.

Ratatosk took one look at her solemn face, looking up at him expectantly. "… Yes, of course," he said, unable to say no to the expectant face.

The petite goddess held out her pinky. "Pinky promise?"

Ratatosk sighed and grabbed her pinky with his own. "I pinky promise."

Anastasia smiled and her eyes changed back to the blue as her demeanor became that of a hyperactive six-year-old once more. She let go of Tut and gave Tenebrae a big hug. "Bye bye, Doggie!" she crooned. She gave a hug to Emerald and Marta as well. "Bye Marmar. Bye Emi." She gave Ratatosk a big hug as well. "Bye Ratty! Don't forget your promise!" The blanket and tea all vanished with a wave of the little girl's hand. Cosmos took her hand and bowed to them once more.

"Farewell, all of you. I hope we were able to shed some light on things for you." Anastasia fixed her hat upon her head one last time before both of them vanished without a trace.

Suddenly, a weak voice laughed behind them from the trees. Lying there, made of leaves, was Samyaza. "Confused, aren't you?" he asked, his voice sounding strained. Everyone reached for their weapons.

"What do you want, Samyaza?" Ratatosk demanded.

"I am Nazo now," the man rasped. "Samyaza is the name of my body; Nazo is the name of this form I take as a wandering soul. And worry not. I'm too weak now after being forced to separate to be of harm. I just wanted to visit you all one last time before resting."

Emerald narrowed her eyes at the man. "Why did you say you had come to capture me when you were actually going to help me?" she asked.

"I wanted to see how prepared you were," he gasped. He let out another chuckle. "I was sorely disappointed." He looked to Ratatosk, "I see you've met my sister, Anastasia."

"Wouldn't she be your daughter if you are a piece of her father?" Tenebrae asked.

"No, I am more like a child of Samael myself. As such, Anastasia and I are brother and sister," he coughed. "I want to give you one last warning."

"A warning about what?" Marta demanded. "And what happened to Luin? Why would you warn us about something now after you might have just killed countless people? What makes us different?"

Nazo laughed only to deteriorate into more coughing. "Concern for others? How human," he noted dryly. "You ask what makes you different when the answer is standing right next to you," He turned to stare at Ratatosk. "Xeralisk will not have taken kindly to your answer. He intends to kill your friends off one by one until you submit."

Ratatosk's frown twisted to a snarl at that news. "If he wants the gate opened, then he should come for me and leave everyone else out of this!" he yelled.

Nazo laughed once more. "He is taking advantage of your newfound conscience. I suggest you find your friends as soon as possible. You'll be safer in a group." Nazo's eye locked on Emerald before he began his choking laugh again, the sound fading into the distance as Nazo's body of leaves fell apart.

They waited a moment longer to see if he was really gone, then relaxed. Ratatosk switched back to Emil, who slumped to the ground, fatigued from the day. Marta knelt down and put her hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we rest here for today and move out tomorrow. There's a small village not too far away. We can head there after we've rested up."

With that decided, they set about making camp.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**I'm considering making Anastasia appear more often. She seems to fit the role of mischievous troublemaker. **_

_**Emerald: So, let me get this straight. Nazo/Samyaza is a Fragment of Samael and is super-powerful, just like Xeralisk.**_

_**Yep.**_

_**Emerald: And for some unexplained reason, Xeralisk and Samyaza want to kill each other. **_

_**Ya-huh.**_

_**Emerald: And you brought in even more gods and goddesses to explain the situation. **_

_**They play a pivotal role in all of this. **_

_**Emerald: And we know who some of the Fragments of Samael are, so that leaves the Fragments of Psyche.**_

_**Indeed it does. **_

_**Emerald: Do you already have plans for them, or are you making it up as you go?**_

_**Oh I know what I'm doing. Yes, I do. Heheheh. I know all too well. **_

_**Please, leave a review for me. I would be ever so happy to read it. Leave guesses to future plot if you wish. I also love discussing characters, so if you want to know about any of them, I'll do my best to keep it spoiler-free. Hope you enjoyed it.**_


	22. Chapter 22: The Greatest Punishment

_**A/N is a little lacking in enthusiasm this chapter. I'm too in the mood of the chapter to write one like I normally do. Fair warning, a certain mercenary is in his emo-corner this chapter. I actually almost started crying as I wrote this. It's my most emotional chapter yet, in my own opinion. Though it's a large change of pace from last chapter.**_

_**This is a very emotional chapter, with deep connections to a character's past. The next arc of this story will be short, like Luin, but it won't be nearly as confusing. It's… filler, I guess is the best word. It has absolutely nothing to do with the over-arching plot, but it builds upon my characters.**_

_**Response to Anonymous Reviews:**_

_**Regret of Gods: I'm glad you like it. :) Thanks for explaining what you meant by "FLYING MINT BUNNYS" because that left me slightly confused. It's kind of funny you described my story as "godly awesome" (thanks for the compliment, by the way) since the main villain is a Fragment of a god. **_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 22: The Greatest Punishment

The village of Stantol was always a quaint, quiet place. There was never anything too dangerous happening. It was small enough that everyone knew everyone else, but large enough that one could get lost if they didn't know where they were going. Everyone was always lively in the village. Children were often seen playing on the streets. It was a peaceful town.

At least, that's how it used to be.

Now, windows were closed, doors were locked tight, and children were forbidden from going outside. It was always that way whenever _he_ came into town. When he first showed up, they were all excited for his arrival. They had been terrorized by a dragon and he came to slay the beast. To their surprise, he managed to do it. The town was always in his debt. But that was before they saw him for what he was.

He was a monster.

They knew it from the start. He said as much himself. But they refused to believe it. He was their hero, and they saved him from the edge of death. They did this in spite of his warning that they would regret it. It would have been better for everyone if he was left on death's door so he could knock and take that final step through it.

Every time he visited, trouble followed. But they didn't know it followed him, they just knew he dealt with it. He continued to grow in their eyes, and he finally began to think there was more to him than the monster in his mind. In particular, one woman aided him greatly. She was the only one able to tame the monster that he could never stop.

One day, he finally became one of them. He was married into the family of the town with the woman that had saved his life. He continued to travel, and she went with him. She gave him purpose in life beyond the blood and death that had followed him everywhere. She gave him control over his untamable monster.

But it was not meant to be. What was beautiful love, vibrantly blooming before them, hid beneath it the hideous thorns of tragedy. The monster within the man grew restless. It was tired of the woman sending it back into the recesses of the man's mind. It began to struggle against the bonds the man placed upon it.

One day, it rebelled. It waited for the man to grow complacent, for him to lower his guard. Then it seized control, and it wouldn't allow itself to be thrown to the side again. It was a dark day in Stantol.

Right now, the perpetrator was sitting in the cemetery, in the section where all of the victims were buried. He heaved a sigh and stared carefully at his hand. He flexed and examined it closely, as if it wasn't really his. For all he knew, it wasn't.

The monster within him shifted and growled. He ignored it, knowing that if he gave it attention then it would only grow stronger more quickly. It was hungry, he knew. It was always hungry. Hungry to taste the coppery flavor of blood; Hungry to feel the metallic scent fill its nostrils; Hungry to cut; Hungry to kill.

He took his attention from his hand and looked down at the grave before him. He knew the epitaph written upon the stone by heart: _Krystle Caston, she died as she lived: concerned for others and putting them first. She will be forever missed._ Carved just below it, crudely and barely decipherable, as if the writer couldn't stop shaking, was a simple message.

"I'm sorry. I won't ask you to forgive me, because I know that if I did, you would. I don't deserve to be forgiven. I'll never deserve to be forgiven," he read aloud. Tears fell from his eyes as he looked around at the other graves. He knew the names written on each one. The names of the people he had killed. The names of the people he had murdered.

The names of the ones the monster slew with glee in its black heart.

He heard footsteps approach him. He knew who it was. It was her father. The elderly man with the long beard stopped behind him, leaning heavily upon his cane. "So I see you've come to visit us again this year. Still astounds me that you always manage to arrive and leave on the same days year after year," he said, looking down upon the man.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I cause the village when I come," he answered. "I just… can't bring myself to not visit at least once every year; to visit her… on the anniversary of her death." The tears grew stronger and he stifled a sob. "The anniversary of her death… and the death of our newborn child."

Next to the grave was a small white crucifix impaled in the ground. A tattered old teddy bear rested beneath the cross. It was clear it had seen much abuse from the weather. The old man sighed and reached down to pick it up. "So I suppose you brought another gift for the baby girl, hm?" he asked.

"Why do you bother to talk to me, year after year, Hank?" the man asked, fighting back tears. "I'm the reason your daughter is dead."

"Because, Robert," Hank began, "You're also the reason she was so happy." He smiled softly as he gazed at the old bear, his eyes looking somewhere else. "I'll never forget the look of joy on her face when she came home with that ring on her finger. Or her eyes when she told me that she was pregnant." The old man sighed longingly and looked at the dejected youngster beside him. "You took her away from me, that much is true. But… she loved you. She would never have wanted me to hate you, no matter what you did. I won't stomp on her memory by shunning you."

"Why do you forgive me?" Robert sobbed, no longer holding back his tears. "It would be so much easier if you hated me! I should be dead for what I did! Why did you speak up at that trial and save me?" He punched the ground angrily, shouting his frustration. "Why?" he whispered, sorrow and pain lacing his voice.

Hank looked down sadly at the berserker. "If your roles were reversed that day, and you were killed by her, would you want your family to hate her?" he asked simply. "She wouldn't want me to hate you. She was always forgiving everything. She was a good girl." The sky above thundered, and rain began to fall. Hank looked one last time to Robert. "I'm going back inside. You should too, since you're not wearing that fancy armor of yours. Go back to the inn and rest up. You shouldn't let yourself catch your death out here."

"I don't have a room at the inn," Robert told him bitterly. "Why pay for something I won't use?"

Hank just sighed and walked away. "Those who go looking for Death never find him, boy. If you want to die so badly, just run away from him. He prefers to chase his prey."

Robert failed to respond. He gently reached into the pack beside him and pulled out a locket. He opened it and sadly gazed at the picture inside. A picture of beautiful woman with brown hair rested inside. She was still fresh in her years of youth and was smiling broadly, cradling her pregnant belly. Beside her was Robert, his arm over her shoulder, looking like he was the happiest man in the world.

A drop of water fell onto the glass protecting the picture, and Robert absently wiped it away. He didn't even bother telling himself it was the rain. He knew it wasn't. He gently placed it before the cross.

"Here's a picture of your mother and fa-… of your mother and me," he sniffed, choking back his sobs. "I know you weren't alive for very long, so I thought you would like it if there was a reminder of what she looked like." Robert's heart ached so badly. He put a hand to his chest, his loose shirt already soaked through by the rain. He could feel his heart beating against his chest, but that was the only sign that it wasn't broken into pieces.

Robert closed his eyes and let himself mourn once more. "I-I know that I don't d-deserve to be called a-a… father," he managed to stutter through his tears. "But… but I still want to say it. You were my child, but I'm the one that… that killed you! I'm so sorry. You were never even given a name. I-" Robert choked, unable to continue. For a moment, all that could be heard were his choking sobs. "I'm so sorry," He eventually managed. "Don't forgive me. I'll never ask you to forgive me. Because if I did, then that would mean that I would have to forgive myself."

Robert didn't know how long he sat out there in the rain, kneeling before the graves of his loved ones. Hours, minutes, seconds; all measurements of time had no meaning to him. He stared forlornly at the stone, replaying the day over and over in his head.

It took a few moments before he realized that the rain had stopped. He looked up to see that rain still fell, but he was no longer feeling its cold touch. Slowly, he realized that someone was standing over him with an umbrella. It was a girl he didn't recognize. She certainly wasn't from Stantol. Behind her was a man and woman, hiding beneath their umbrellas. They were probably the girl's parents. The man approached him, smiled, and reached out his hand. "It's not the best weather to be out visiting graves," he said. "Why don't you head home or to the inn?"

"Home is in Asgard," Robert answered, looking away. "And this town doesn't take kindly to my presence. If I were to sleep in that inn, the innkeeper would never be able to rest easy."

"Why's that?" he asked, curiously tilting his blonde head to the side. His green eyes were piercing, and Robert felt like he was being interrogated, even though the other man never could have known how painful that question was.

Robert managed to give him a wry grin, twisted with self-hatred. He answered, "Because I'm a monster."

The girl laughed. "You don't look much like a monster to me," she said. "And I know monsters, believe me."

Robert said nothing for a moment. "Not all monsters are beasts."

None of them had any response for that, but the woman walked over and looked at the graves. "Were they close to you?" she asked.

"Yes. They were the whole reason I lived."

"How did they die?"

Robert flinched. "That is a sensitive question."

They waited for a moment, but Robert said nothing more. The man frowned and looked towards the woman. She shrugged and walked over beside him. The man looked back to Robert, and, with concern in his voice, told him, "You really shouldn't stay out here. I doubt they would want you to kill yourself because you didn't want to take shelter from the storm."

Robert balled his hand into a fist. "If only it were so easy for me to die," he breathed. "I can't count how many times I've cheated death. If all it took was a little rain to kill me, I would die a second time from the shame."

The girl put her hand on her hip and frowned, giving Robert a stern look. "Look, I don't care how depressed you are about the deaths of these people, but you shouldn't take it out on those around you. We're just concerned for you."

"Is it concern for a stranger?" he demanded. "Or is it stroking your own ego? You try to pull a man out of a pit, but that man doesn't want to leave the pit. Is it better for you to force him out of it, or leave him there?"

"If the man stays in the pit indefinitely, he'll die," she answered quickly. "I'm not saying I'm going to force him out of it, but it would be best for him and those who care for him if he did come out."

Robert gave a dark laugh. "She gave the same answer," he told her. "But I'll tell you the same thing I told her: what if everyone else wants him to stay in the pit as well?"

The woman put her hand on the girl's shoulder as she opened her mouth to respond. "Emerald, you won't convince him of anything. Sometimes, it's best to just leave someone be."

The man nodded in agreement, and held the umbrella in his hand out to Robert. "At least take an umbrella. Even if the world is against you, that's not a reason for you to just let yourself die. I'm sure everything will work out in the end."

Robert laughed, but took the offered protection from the rain. "The end was a long time ago. They've been dead for five years now."

The trio was puzzled by this, but Robert ignored their continued questions. After a few moments of trying to get him to explain, they left. Robert let the umbrella fall once they were out of sight. The rain hid his tears, and he inexplicably felt like the sky was crying with him. After all, he could never properly mourn the loss of the wife and child he had killed himself.

He vacantly thought back to that time, at the trial where he was to be sentenced to death.

_It was the final testimony. Robert made no pleas for mercy or innocence. He knew he was guilty, just like everyone else. He could hardly even understand why there was a trial. Finally, before the jury could leave to discuss the verdict, Hank stood up and addressed them._

"_Everyone, I feel this man should be allowed to live." _

_Everyone in the court was floored. As cries of outrage and shock filled the room, the judge called for order. Once everyone calmed, the judge looked to Hank and asked, "What makes you say that."_

_Hank shrugged. "Can we blame a man for something he himself fought against? I know for sure that as he struck down my daughter, he was fighting that berserk side of him with everything he had. Also, we must remember that this man saved the village countless times. We owe him a debt, and now, it may be our time to repay that."_

Robert smiled ironically at the memory. "You don't talk to me because I'm forgiven. You never truly forgave me," he whispered, almost to himself. "That's why you let me live."

* * *

"Thank you," Emil said as he accepted the key to their room. The innkeeper nodded before frowning. He seemed uncertain about something.

"By any chance, did you see the man in the graveyard on the way here?" he asked them.

"Yes, we did," Marta responded. "We tried to convince him to take shelter from the rain, but he was being very stubborn."

The innkeeper looked relieved. "I hope he catches his death out there," he said. "That man is nothing but a disaster waiting to happen. People like him are better off dead."

Emerald was enraged. "How can you say that about someone?" she screamed. "He's a person just like everyone else! What could he have possibly done that makes you shun him like that? Isn't it bad enough that he's out there trying to catch his death? Can't you people show him some pity?"

"The only pity is that he's still alive," the innkeeper answered, just as angrily. It was clear he held some kind of grudge. "He should have died at that trial five years ago. I don't know why Hank spared his life, but he should at least have received some punishment for what he did."

"What did he do?" Emil asked.

The innkeeper turned to the man and gave him a hard stare. "Five years ago, we were attacked by a group of bandits. He was here that day, with his wife, the mayor's daughter, Krystle. Krystle was giving birth, and Robert, the man out there, went to deal with the bandits and protect us like he had done so many times before. But he went berserk and he ended up massacring thirty villagers, among them were my father and sister and Robert's own wife and newborn child."

Emil, Marta, and Emerald were all shocked. The innkeeper continued. "If you want the full story, ask Hank, the mayor. He'll be more than happy to explain everything and it's best that he does it. But fair warning: stay away from that Robert Caston. He's nothing more than a monster that walks like a man." With that said, the innkeeper left the family to their own devices. They went up to their room and began to settle in.

After a moment, Emil spoke up. "Why don't we go ask the mayor about Robert? I'm kind of curious to hear the story."

Marta nodded in agreement. "Me too," she admitted. "But don't forget, we need to tell Lloyd and Colette where we are so they don't go to Luin and miss us."

Tenebrae appeared next to her. "I would be glad to inform them of your current whereabouts. Of course, it may take a while to find them," he offered.

Emil nodded. "Thanks a lot, Tenebrae." The Centurion vanished once more. "We should probably rest for now. It's almost sunset and the rain doesn't look like it will let up any time soon."

* * *

The rain continued throughout the night. Robert did not mind. He never fell asleep, but that didn't bother him. The downpour faded near dawn. Carefully, he examined the blade of the kodachi he now carried along with the Clockwork Scythe. It was a katana-like short sword. As he gazed upon it, he noted how the sharpened edge seemed to glow in the dawn's light. It was so tempting to his eyes.

He shook his head and sheathed the weapon. Like he had told Gregory, suicide would do nothing for him. Absently, he noted the trio from the night before heading towards Hank's house. No doubt they heard of what he had done. A grim smile adorned his face. Now they would realize that he truly was a monster. And they undoubtedly would want him to die as well. It was the least that he deserved.

Emerald cast a look at the man in the graveyard. She frowned curiously when she saw him smiling, but she did her best to ignore it. However, the berserker kept his jaded eyes upon them with that grim smile below until they went into the mayor's house.

Inside, an old man with a long beard looked up when they entered. "Oh, you must be the travelers that came in last night." The elder climbed to his feet and hobbled over to them, his cane supportimg most of his weight. "My name is Hank, I'm the mayor of Stantol." He shook all of their hands. "Something I can help you with?"

Emil nodded. "Yes. Would you mind telling us what happened five years ago?"

Hank seemed puzzled. "Well, no, not really. But I do find it odd that you've come to me about it. After all, I'm not the only one that was there."

Marta put her hand on her hip and leaned to one side. "We're not entirely sure why you need to tell us either," she said. "The innkeeper said it was most fitting for you to tell us."

"We ran into... Robert? Is that is name?" Emerald asked.

Hank sighed with understanding in his voice. "Ah, I see now. You met the infamous Robert the Berserker last night. You talked to him and you wanted to know more about him." Hank turned and started to limp away, signaling the trio to follow him. He led them into his common room with a dying fire. He sat in an armchair and told the others to take a seat as well.

"After he finally managed to get you to leave him alone, the innkeeper asked you if you saw him. Jared probably had one of his fits and told you to see me." The old man sighed again. "Jared really knows how to hold a grudge, though I suppose it's partially my fault."

Emil cocked his head to the side at this. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Hank smiled sadly. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. About twelve years ago, we were being preyed upon by a powerful dragon. Now, we are a simple farming village, so we couldn't hope to stop the beast on our own. So, we gathered funds and put out a request for some mercenaries to take care of it for us.

"A month or two passed by and we received no response. Crops were burned, homes were lost, and livestock were killed while we waited, but fortunately, nobody was harmed. When we were just about to give up hope for help ever coming, Robert showed up: a lad of no more than fifteen years and carrying a scythe as big as he was."

Hank chuckled. "Imagine our surprise when he told us he had come to kill the dragon. While most of us were uncertain about one boy not even out of his teens fighting a dragon alone, we were desperate. We sent him off to the dragon's lair and started preparing to send his body back.

"The next day, the dragon came back with a vengeance. It seemed all the boy had managed to do was anger the beast. We were about to start abandoning our homes and fleeing, but the monster let out a mighty bellow that we had never heard before. It seemed to be in pain. The dragon's body fell into the middle of the village square, where it let out a final moan.

"The beast was still for a time. Then, a small sword burst from the beast's belly, the hand clutching it covered in blood and ichor. The young mercenary crawled out, covered in burns from the stomach acid and barely clinging to life. He gave us what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, told us that the job was completed, and then promptly passed out."

"How did you manage to patch him up?" Marta asked. "It sounds like he was on the verge of death."

"He was, miss," Hank answered. "You see, Krystle, my daughter, was the town healer. She was present when all this happened and she rushed out to do what she could for the lad. Fortunately, she was excellent at her job. She managed to save him, though it was touch and go for two weeks and it took another two for him to be well enough to move.

"Krystle was at the man's side nearly constantly during his stay. She always made sure he was comfortable, made sure he had enough blankets, made sure he was well fed. She practically doted on Robert, and no one in the village could blame her. We all held the boy up on a pedestal for slaying that dragon.

"While he was recovering, we took the liberty of skinning the dragon and making leather from its hide. We gave that to Robert in addition to his pay. He made it into armor and that's where he gets his nickname of 'Dragonhide Caston'."

"What happened to it?" Emil asked. "He wasn't wearing any armor when we saw him last night."

Hank shook his head. "He still has it; he just doesn't wear it around here. I don't quite know why." Hank waved his hand at them, "But that's beside the point. What really matters, is the next few years.

"Robert came back to visit plenty of times. I suspect it was mostly to see Krystle more than any of us. We didn't mind. He dealt with any trouble we couldn't handle. After five or so years, my daughter and he got married. Two years after that – five years and nine months ago from this day – my daughter became pregnant with their daughter."

Emerald lowered her head sadly. "But but bandits attacked and Robert went crazy, right?"

Hank nodded. "Robert is a unique kind of warrior: a berserker. If his blood gets up, it becomes hard for him to control himself. Sometimes, he will lose it completely. Krystle had the ability to calm that wild side of him. She was the maiden that tamed the savage beast. But one day, that beast would not let itself be tamed."

Hank was silent for a moment. "A group of bandits calling themselves the Shadow Knives invaded the town one day. It was the day that Robert and Krystle's daughter was going to be born. Robert went out to defend the town, killing almost the entire group before they fled."

"But he wouldn't be calmed that time," Marta noted. "He turned his blade on the villagers."

Hank nodded solemnly. "Krystle had just finished giving birth when he stormed into the room, covered in blood and raving like a madman. Krystle tried to calm him, but he merely cut her down. The baby followed quickly along with everyone else in the room. He went out and started to kill people. He only stopped when he was knocked unconscious by a rock a small child threw at him."

"So that's what he meant," Emerald realized.

Hank raised an eyebrow at that. "Pardon?"

"When we talked to Robert, he called himself a monster," she explained.

"Sadly enough, that assessment is not inaccurate."

"But it's obvious enough he regrets his actions," Emil cried. "He's been living with that burden for five years now. The way he acts about it seems like it happened last week!"

Hank smiled sadly. "I know. It is his curse: to slaughter with glee and mourn his actions when he comes to his senses."

Marta looked at the man in wonder. "You pity him," she accused gently. "That's why you spared him at that trial five years ago."

"Because I _pity _him?" Hank spat. His smile turned into a smirk. "I spared him because that's what Krystle would have wanted. But even more so, I spared him because that's the worst punishment I could deliver."

Everyone was confused. Hank stood up and gazed into the dying embers in his fireplace. "At the start of the trial, I had every intention to encourage the death sentence. But as I watched him, I realized that that's what he wanted as well. He was seeking some form of penance to atone for his crime. He wanted to be punished. By punishing him, I would bring him peace."

Hank turned around and eyed them each darkly. "I realized that by denying him that penance, I would be giving him the greatest punishment he would receive. His conscience would tear away at the back of his mind for the rest of his life, knowing that he killed the ones he loved most and he was not punished for it. But I allow him and everyone else to believe that I spared him from pity or for my late daughter because it only works as long as he doesn't realize what his true punishment is."

Everyone was silent. They had not expected such a cruel action from such a kindly old man. Hank returned to his seat. "Robert has an anecdote he likes to use. I think it's about a man being in a pit and you wanting him out of the pit. Well, imagine that pit is his grave. If a man wishes to stay in his grave, what crueler fate could you give than to pull him out and force him to dig the graves of others?"

"That's…" Emil trailed, struggling to find a word for the elder's brand of justice.

"Horrible," Marta finished, her face agape in shock.

"How can you sleep at night knowing you did something like that?" Emerald demanded.

Hank's face became stern. "Do you have something you love more than anything? How would you feel if that something was cruelly torn away from you by someone you trusted?" Emerald was silent. Hank tapped his cane on the ground. He answered for her, "You would want that person to suffer as much as they could. My daughter was that thing for me."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Emil broke it solemnly, "Thank you for telling us these things."

Hank gave them a warm look. "No problem at all."

Emil stood, and Marta and Emerald followed. "I suppose we'll be going now. We're hoping to meet some friends of ours here, so we might be staying awhile."

"Hopefully you'll be here once Robert leaves," Hank told them. "The town is much livelier when he's gone."

Suddenly, a villager burst through the door, shouting "Mayor Hank!"

"What is it?"

"Darlak has returned!"

"The leader of that Shadow Knives group?"

"Yes. He's got the whole town out, screaming his head off about something."

"This is bad. He was one of the few survivors. He must be back for revenge."

Emil looked at his family and they nodded, knowing what he was going to ask. He looked over and cleared his throat. "We'll come too. We can help out if something happens."

Hank nodded. "That would be much obliged, sir. Thank you for your help."

* * *

Robert heard the man's shouts from the graveyard. Robert frowned darkly. He never did like Darlak. He reached for his weapon but froze, remembering what happened last time.

While he was lost in thought, Darlak continued to shout, the screams getting louder over time. Robert sighed. "For such a small man, he sure has a big voice," he noted. He glanced towards Krystle's grave. "I suppose you would want me to stop him from hurting others, wouldn't you?"

Robert sighed sadly. "I suppose I will do it, though I'm scared to try. Please, watch over me and keep me from going mad again. After all, I doubt you would want even someone like him to die."

The berserker ended his one-sided conversation and reached for his pack. He wouldn't be able to go out there dressed as he was.

* * *

Pensive Poetry

* * *

**What is Best?**

What is best for this man before us?  
He mourns the loss he brought to himself.  
What punishment for this man would be just?  
His crime is greater than we have seen before.

Would it be best to lock him away?  
Never again to see the light of day?

Would it be best to take his life  
In exchange for the ones he stole?

He lives in misery,  
Their blood upon his hands.  
He mourns them constantly.  
His tears, they have no end.

The weight of their deaths is on his shoulders,  
Pulling him down so he's lost in their depths.  
He regrets his action and comes here before us  
So that we may exact upon him our justice.

I know now what his punishment should be.  
It would be best for us to let this man go free.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Sometimes, the greatest punishment is no punishment at all. Sometimes it is worse for the person to slowly tear themselves apart bit by bit over their lives knowing that they were let go. Death can be mercy, prison can be solace, and punishment can be comfort. It is rare, but it can happen. In these cases, what can be seen as mercy by the judge can be seen as damnation by the perpetrator.**_

_**Please leave a review.**_


	23. Chapter 23: The Beast Within

_**Here we are! Out of the severe emo-ness of the last chapter. I guess that I just got in the spirit of tragedy. **_

_**Thomas: That was… a really depressing chapter.**_

_**Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. But this chapter will make up for it.**_

_**Thomas: … You have that look in your eye.**_

_**What look?**_

_**Thomas: The look that says something bad is going to happen.**_

_**Nothing too major will happen.**_

_**Thomas: I would like you to tell me your version of "major".**_

_**What happened to Triet**_

_**Thomas: … My bad feeling is justified.**_

_**Am I really so evil?**_

_**Thomas: Please tell me that was rhetorical.**_

… _**Fine, we'll move on. **_

_**Now we know of Robert's past and he is about to be confronted with it. It is truly sad. He is a tragic character. Much like Lucifer has been so far. **_

_**I think this is the first chapter where I don't have a scene change or a time skip that necessitates a line break. Go me!**_

_**I used Italian in some of this chapter. I used Google Translate to get it, so if it's wrong please let me know! **_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 23: The Beast Within

"Where the hell is Robert Caston?" the leader of the bandits shouted. "I know he's here. Show yourself, coward!"

The entire village was in the town center. They were gathered up and a group of about ten armed men were scanning the crowd lazily. At the front of them stood a short man with two daggers strapped to his waist. Next to the man stood an elven woman who clearly did not belong amongst the bandits.

She was covered in a white leather suit. A white cape rested on her shoulders. Not an inch of her skin was showing, she was covered entirely by the snow-colored armor. The hood of her cape was pulled up over her head and shaded her face, though one could still see her hair that was as white as bleached bones and her extremely pale skin. Her eyes were a bright scarlet and seemed to glow within her hood.

Hank made his way to the front of the crowd with Emil, Marta, and Emerald right behind him. "I should have known Darlak would come back one day. He always was one to hold a grudge for as long as he needed. I should have disciplined that boy more."

"You know him?" Emil asked.

Hank snorted. "Yes, I know him. It pains me greatly to admit it, but he's my son." Hank spat on the ground. "Though I disowned him a long time ago."

They finally reached the front of the crowd and Hank stepped out to confront the bandit leader. "Darlak," he started, "Why do you return to this village?"

"I don't give a damn about the village," Darlak answered. "I just want that piece of crap Caston that killed my men five years ago to get his ass out here."

The elven woman standing next to Darlak scanned the crowd calmly with her eyes. Emil shuddered as her eyes passed over him. The woman looked uninterested, but Emil could tell she was analyzing each and every person in the crowd.

"Is it wise to chase after someone who killed so many by himself?" Hank asked Darlak.

"I don't care what you have to say to me, old man! We've got someone to deal with him. I just want to see that man pay for what he did. Now bring the blasted cur out here right now, old man!"

Before Hank could respond, a calm voice called from the back of the crowd. "It's all right, Hank. I can take care of this." The elf's head snapped to face the direction the voice came from, all of her attention immediately placed upon it.

The crowd parted to reveal Robert Caston, adorned once more with his dragon hide armor. In his left hand he held the folded form of the Clockwork Scythe. His kodachi was strapped to his hip. The people seemed to avoid the man like a plague, children huddling closer to their parents as he passed. His face was calm and focused. He didn't even notice the people's reactions, or he pretended not to. He walked up and stopped next to Hank. He leaned over and whispered "Are the three with you able to fight?"

"They said they were, and I'm certain they can." Hank answered.

"Good. I'm sure they'll stop me if it starts to happen again."

Hank nodded and started to shuffle out of the way. "And Hank," Robert called. "Don't be so cruel as to sentence me to live freely this time. I've suffered enough. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" Hank whipped his head around and met the man's eyes. Hank let a serene smile cross his face at the empty look of begging he saw there.

"I told you earlier, those who seek after Death never meet him," Hank breathed before returning to the crowd. "Only when you start to flee from him will he come after you. My curse on you is that you live for as long as you carry that sorrow in your heart. The day you finally move on and that wound begins to close shall be the day that your life is taken from you."

Robert frowned darkly, but turned to face the bandit and the elf. He shrugged off Hank's words and focused on Darlak. "Are you really so petty that you would hunt a man for five years just to settle a grudge, Darlak?" he asked.

Darlak spat on Robert's boots, frowning at the lack of emotion on the mercenary's face. "The Shadow Knives have worked hard to build up our reputation, and you shamed us greatly. It would only add insult to injury to not chase after you. Of course, we had to lick our wounds for quite a while thanks to you."

Robert gave a surprised chuckle. "I wasn't aware that there was a sense of honor amongst thieves."

Darlak seemed ready to burst at that insult, but the elf just gave the berserker a disapproving glare. "No matter what a man does, he always holds to some sense of honor. After all, even a murderer has things he will not stoop to," she responded before Darlak could. Her voice was cold, harsh, and blank, much like her features. Her words carried the slightest hint of an accent.

Robert blinked and stared at her, as if noticing her for the first time. "I don't believe we've met before," he said. "What's your name?"

"My name is Corvina. And you are my target," she answered briskly. Robert seemed confused at what she called him. Everyone was.

"Her… target?" Emerald asked, uncertain if she had heard right. Then, the scrape of steel leaving a sheath whispered behind her. A second later, a whistle followed a small throwing knife as it flew past her head and towards the exposed back of Robert Caston.

Emerald was about to shout out a warning, but it was too late. The blade buried itself in Robert's back, pitching the tall man forward slightly. But instead of falling over, he whirled around and scanned the crowd, his eyes no longer dull and uninterested. Darts flew out of another part of the crowd, poison dripping from their tips. This time they were aimed at his head. Robert whipped out his kodachi and parried them all, holding the short sword in a reverse-grip.

Corvina was frowning slightly, but dashed forward, metal glinting in the palm of her hand. She made to strike Robert at the point where his spine met his skull, but Robert flung the still folded Clockwork Scythe behind his head to protect it. "Double teaming isn't exactly fair," he chided.

"I'm afraid the word 'fair' is not in my vocabulary," Corvina answered, her red eyes hard and unyielding.

Another barrage of weapons came from the crowd, again from a different place. Robert parried them before forcing Corvina to back off. A frustrated growl resounded from the crowd before a teenage boy threw himself from the crowd, a sword painted black in his hands. He attacked Robert, who blocked with his kodachi and unfolded his scythe. The two entered a deadly dance, where the nimble teen was dodging the swings of the deadly scythe and Robert was parrying the strikes of the teen's sword.

Emil, Marta, and Emerald were all shocked. "We need to help him!" Emil shouted, moving to aid the berserker. But Darlak cut them off, several of the bandits holding their own daggers out to guard in case they met with resistance.

Darlak sneered at them. "This fight is between Corvina, her apprentice, and my dear old brother-in-law. Everyone else can kiss my ass and stay out of the way!"

Marta growled in frustration and looked around the bandits to see a perplexing sight. She frowned. "Wait, why did that elf back off?" she asked. Sure enough, Corvina had stepped away from the fight between her partner and the berserker. She watched the fight closely, her face showing disapproval and anger. Her eyes were constantly on the teenage boy. She was muttering to herself.

Emil frowned as well. "I don't know," he told them. "But I'm sure Robert can't keep that up for forever. He doesn't seem too used to the fighting style he's using."

Emerald let out a snarl of frustration. "But these idiots won't let us help him!"

Occasionally, Robert would slip up and his foe would score a hit, but it was never in anywhere too vital or on the head. Meanwhile, the teen had yet to be even touched. Robert's face was once more a grim mask of indifference, as if he was fighting something other than the boy before him.

Finally, the teen over extended himself on a thrust, and Robert took advantage. The man sank his kodachi into the back of his foe's elbow, following it with a stern bash on the forearm with the handle of his scythe. An audible snap was heard and the teen yelled in pain. Robert followed it up by cutting open the teen's gut and stabbing him in the chest before leaping back to create distance. "Death Sentence!" the man yelled as he cut the boy deeply in the chest. The young man gurgled once before he fell over, dead.

Corvina watched all of it with a frown upon her face. Darlak was fuming, demanding to know why Corvina hadn't killed him already. Robert ignored Darlak in favor of turning and looking at the elf, giving her a wide smirk. "Your partner might still be alive if you had helped him," he taunted.

Corvina sighed and shrugged. She closed her eyes and began to list off bits of information, "Name: Robert Caston. Age: twenty-seven. Place of Birth: Asgard. History: Taken to the Asgard Human Ranch as an infant and forced into an experiment where young human children were trained up to be their guard dogs. It is during this time where he developed his berserker personality. After being freed, he was put into the care of Sam Estanque, guild master of the Waves of Balacruf, a mercenary guild. He was raised in this environment and has made quite a name for himself. Guilty for the murder of thirty villagers of this very town, but was released on the grounds of insanity and an act of amnesty for all of the things he had done for the village."

Robert blinked in surprise. The woman was giving his life story and he had never even met her. She continued, "Things to note: Robert Caston is an excellent warrior, whether or not he is berserk. Items in possession of special note: Clockwork Scythe, an ancient heirloom of unknown origin and make, and armor made of a dragon's skin. The dragon skin armor is of extremely special notice as it is very difficult to cut through, so special equipment is needed to be able to deal any significant harm. However, he does not have any protection over his head. He is also left-handed."

Corvina opened her eyes and gave Robert a flat look. "My apprentice," she nodded to the fallen teenager, "was equipped with all of this knowledge, and yet he wasted his first opportunity to kill you by throwing the knife at your back instead of your neck or your head. Rule of the Assassin No. 4: Knowledge is an assassin's greatest and most silent weapon.

"Then, instead of allowing me to distract you and present to him an opening, he impatiently kept trying to get you from afar and wasted all of his ranged weapons. Rule of the Assassin No. 22: A target that is aware of your presence is infinitely harder to kill than a target that is not. So you must wait for the chance to strike him when he is unaware.

"Then, finally seeing that his tactics were failing, instead of thinking, he charged against a foe far beyond his level of fighting. He chose the path of a fool.

"We were not aware that you were experimenting with a new fighting style. If you had not been doing such, you most likely would have killed him straight off. He was weak." She gave them all a flat stare. "The weak are killed. It is only the strong that will survive."

Robert was shocked at her callousness. "That's rather cold-blooded."

"It is our way of life."

"'Our'? And who else would be included in that?"

"That is not for you to know." Corvina drew a katana from beneath her cape. "The target is merely supposed to die." She lunged at Robert, who brought his kodachi up to block. She danced away to avoid Robert's counter with his scythe before she rushed him once more, forcing him back on the defensive.

Darlak grinned at the fight, satisfied with how well it was going now. He turned back to the trio and grinned. "Well, I would assume you want to tussle as well? I can't let you interfere with Corvina's work, but I'll be more than happy to play with you instead."

Marta sighed in anger. "It looks like we don't have a choice. If we want to help Robert, we're going to need to deal with him first."

The family all drew their weapons and waited for the fight to begin. The bandits struck first, grabbing their opponents' hands to keep them from using their weapons to defend against their comrades. Emil narrowly dodged a strike aimed at his chest and kicked the one holding his sword in the shin, sending him to the ground. "These guys fight dirty," he warned. Marta herself backed off to cast her magic while Emerald did her best to protect her mother.

Meanwhile, Robert was desperately trying to keep up with Corvina. But the incomplete fighting style Robert was using made it difficult for him to keep up. Even if he was using his normal style, she would be too quick for him to strike.

Robert lunged at Corvina, who merely ducked beneath the swing and darted forward. Robert brought his kodachi to defend himself. Corvina smiled as she slipped under his guard and struck him across the chest. She followed it up with an upward swing, dragging her blade along the ground. Dark mana twisted around the weapon and exploded upwards, lengthening the slash wound. "Revolucion Oscuro!"

Robert gasped in pain and pulled back, tenderly touching the blood from the shallow cuts and looking at the ruby liquid staining the elf's sword. "You managed to cut through my armor," he said in shock.

Corvina smiled, though it was far from pleasant. "Like I said before, special equipment is needed to be able to deal with that armor of yours. There is nothing Artiglio del Dragocannot cut through. To be honest, I'm surprised that little kodachi of yours hasn't already succumbed to its bite."

Robert was silent. He looked at the blood on his hand, his hair hiding his eyes. "You made me bleed," he whispered. Robert lifted his face to show a mad grin. "This fight just got a hell of a lot more fun!" he yelled. Robert took the initiative, lashing out at the albino. Corvina blocked and grunted. She bit her lip. It seemed the berserker had come out to play.

Meanwhile, in the shadows, someone was watching the berserker fight. The man smiled widely as he savored the bloodlust on Robert's face. He noted with relish how Robert's fighting got notably better when he was berserk. The man shifted in his seat as he watched Corvina score several more hits, which only served to anger the berserker even more.

"That's right, berserker: show me what you're capable of. Show me that you're worth my time," he purred.

A woman knelt at the man's feet, a chain fastening her neck to the chair the man sat in. She shuddered as she watched the mercenary fight the assassin. "I hate that man's expression," She whispered. "Why are we even watching him like this? What could a man like that possibly have that would interest you?"

The man callously backhanded the woman, earning a small cry of surprise from her. He whirled on her and grabbed her mouth, hoisting her to meet his gaze. "I don't recall asking your opinion."

"I-I'm sorry!" she choked, tears forming in her eyes from the pain.

The man smirked maliciously. "But now I think I will," he sneered. "Why don't you like his smile? Does it frighten you?" he asked, wiping away a tear as it fell from her eye. He leaned closer so his breathe caressed her cheek as he whispered into her ear, "Does it remind you of what I once was and what I've become?"

The man held his hand up to her lips, brushing them softly. The woman whimpered softly as she closed her eyes, not daring to look. "Don't forget, my dear, I created you." He shoved his fingers into her mouth. Then he forced her to bite down hard with his other hand, breaking his skin. He sighed as his lifeblood flowed into her mouth and down her throat as the woman drank. "And you need my blood to continue to live."

The man threw her down, causing the chain to rattle as it stretched to its limit. The man cackled as he lapped up his own blood. "So pathetic! You can't even escape from the man you loathe because he is the one you can't live without!"

He sighed as he looked back, frowning as he saw Robert being pushed back once more. "This can't be it. Surely there's more to this madness than that!" The man let his hand fall to his armrest, the crimson liquid staining the white material. The woman watched the fluid drip to the ground, shivering as she did her best to hold herself back.

After a few more moments, the man gave a growl of frustration and decided to intervene. He stretched out his still bleeding hand and said a few words in a strange language. "Oh my, it seems that there's another bit he's holding back even now," the man said in surprise. He smiled evilly. "That won't do, show me what your true self is like."

After another moment, the man sat back and sighed. He held his hand out to the woman, who merely stared at the still bleeding fingers. "I know that you are still thirsty, my dear. So drink up! Because I'm going to make sure that you watch the show that's about to start."

Sighing in defeat, the woman pulled the fingers into her mouth and began to suck greedily. The man smiled toothily.

Emil, Marta, and Emerald were doing fine in their fight. While the bandits didn't play fair, they were far too unskilled to be able to hurt the experienced battlers. Unfortunately, while they weren't good at attacking, they were experts on defending themselves. Emil growled in frustration as he fought back another bandit.

Suddenly, a loud wail sounded over everything. Everyone stopped fighting and turned to see Robert on the ground, clutching his head. His mouth was wide open and his eyes were wild.

Corvina, who had been startled by Robert's sudden outburst, was the first to recover. She struck out and speared Robert through the stomach with her sword. Robert didn't even notice the wound and hit the albino with an uppercut, stunning her and sending her flying back. But the sword was left behind in his gut.

"Get out of my head!" Robert yelled as he thrashed about randomly. "Get out! Get out! Get out! Is it really your head? How do you know it's not mine? I was born in this body! I was born here as well! It belongs to me! Which of us was here first? I know you're a liar!" Robert let out another scream as he grasped at his left eye. "You're the one who killed them! That was you, not me! How can you know? I would never do that! I wouldn't either!"

Robert let out one final scream before he looked towards Hank, desperation in his eyes. "Run," he commanded, his voice barely a whisper. Then, he finally grew silent and stilled. Everyone stared at the berserker as his arms dropped to the ground. Robert climbed back into a kneeling position and kept his head lowered. Corvina was the first to recover her wits as she rose from the ground and dusted herself off. "It seems, Target, that your sanity is even scarcer than you would like people to believe. After that show, I think death might be a release."

Hank, however, had become paler than a ghost. He whipped around and screamed to the crowd, "Get out of here! Run for you lives! The beast has been unchained!"

Everyone began to panic. The Shadow Knives seemed apprehensive, uncertain whether to flee or stay. The villagers knew exactly what they needed to do and scattered, some running to homes while others just heading for the hills. Darlak, however, was furious. "Run all you want, you cowards! This pathetic excuse for a man is on the edge of death!" He turned to Corvina, eyes wide with frustration. He stalked over to her and put his face into hers. "Why haven't you killed him yet?" he demanded.

Corvina rolled her eyes. "If you'd refrain from interrupting me, I would be more than pleased to finish my contract with you and be done with this." Corvina sighed. "This is why I hate bringing my client with me on the job," she hissed to herself.

Despite her words, the albino merely hissed in pain when she turned around. She raised a hand to block the sun. Her eyes darted across the ground for her cloak, which had been removed during her fight. The skin on her face seemed slightly burned.

Darlak, growing too impatient, shoved her aside. "I'll do it myself!" he roared. The short man stomped towards the kneeling berserker and pulled out one of his knives. "This is going to feel so good," he purred as he neared Robert.

Before Darlak could deliver the killing blow, Robert stirred. Moving as swiftly as a striking snake, Robert pulled the sword from his gut and plunged it into Darlak's chest. Darlak gasped in shock and stumbled backwards. The dying thief looked to his killer and saw a smile that would look better on a snake's face than a man's.

"Everything can be cut," Robert breathed reverently. "And if it is there then I will cut it!" The berserker's smile turned savage as he reached down and retrieved his weapons. Despite the stab wound in his gut and the cuts from his fight, the blood-crazed maniac was moving like he had just finished warming up. Robert flicked his wrist to fold the Clockwork Scythe, but he kept the blade out and held it like a make-shift sword. With a single swing, he cut Darlak's head from his shoulders. The bandits fled immediately.

Corvina, who had retrieved her cloak and pulled it back over her body by now, looked at the man with uncertainty. Her gaze flicked to her dead client and she pulled her sword out of the man, cleaning the blood from it. "Seeing as the contractor is now dead, I have no more reason to fight you. Fortunate for you, as if it continued, then you would have died." Corvina made to sheathe her weapon, but stopped halfway to block the folded scythe in Robert's left hand.

"What do you mean you don't want to fight?" Robert asked, his devilish smile glinting in the sunlight. "Our fight's just getting started!"

Robert let loose a barrage of attacks, his kodachi and his scythe moving in perfect timing, giving the elf no time to counter. Then, as he brought the scythe down for another strike, he flicked it open. Corvina had no time to readjust her block and wound up being stabbed in the arm. The albino grunted and pulled back, clutching her arm.

She leveled a glare at Robert. "It seems that what I thought was the berserker was merely the appetizer for the real thing," she murmured. "I suppose I will have to use some of those techniques after all."

Robert cautiously licked some of the blood off the end of his scythe. He threw his head back and laughed in his madness. "It's been so long since I've had such a fun fight! Can't you feel it? The blood pounding through your veins! There's nothing more satisfying than the thrill of killing something!" he deteriorated into more cackling, occasionally licking more blood from his weapon.

Emil, Marta, and Emerald all ran up beside the mysterious assassin. The elf spared them half a moment's glance before asking, "And what do you intend to do?"

"Help you, of course," Emil answered.

Marta nodded, determination shining in her eyes. "If we don't stop him, he'll end up butchering the entire town."

Corvnia growled, "I don't need your help. I started this and I swear on my pride that I will be the one to finish it."

"Is this really the time to protect your pride?" Emerald asked.

"Rule of the Assassin No. 50: your pride as an assassin is the most important thing you own. If you give that up, then you are nothing more than a dog."

"I can't really say that I agree with that," Emil responded. "If you lose your own life, then your pride is worthless."

Corvina held her sword to Emil's throat. "Never say those words to me again," she commanded. She took a step forward and swiped at the air. "An assassin does not know the value of a human life. We merely place a price upon it. If the price for my pride is my life, then I will surrender that life ten times over. And another thing…"

Corvina gave a devilish smile of her own as she pulled out a second katana, this one with glowing runes engraved upon it. "Giuramento Violatore will never fail me; Artiglio del Drago will never betray me; the Darkness protects me and my father;" Her weapons began to glow with an eerie purple light. "As his child, fear I shall not harbor." With her mantra finished, she took a few practice swings, trails of purple light following her weapons. She fell into a ready stance and sent a cold glare at Robert. "Ombra Benedizione. The Raven is ready to finish this half-dead mongrel."

Robert grinned maliciously. "Ready to die?" he asked. "Good!" he roared a battle cry as he charged. This time the assassin was ready and blocked each strike with ease. Her blades left a dancing aura of dark mana around her as she twisted and twirled beneath the brutal onslaught of the berserker.

Robert hardly noticed that none of his attacks were hitting. The fact that Corvina was dodging almost all of the attacks wasn't even being registered. "I'm sorry, Mother," he laughed, the words barely intelligible as he grunted and screamed in time with attacks and blocks. "I'm going to kill again! I know you don't like it, but I can't stop! Blame Father. It's he who made me this way!"

Corvina ignored the insane ramblings as she focused. She blocked another blow from the kodachi. She smiled as she leapt away for a moment. "That should do for now," she said. She flipped her swords in the air and clashed them together. "Ombre Lampeggianti!"

Robert grunted as dark mana cut away at his kodachi like a sword. All the attacks focused on a single point. He growled as he watched the blade shatter. "You're useless here, Asteria! Get out of the way!" the man roared, tossing the useless handle away. He gripped his folded scythe with both hands, wielding it like it was a sword with a hilt as long as the blade.

Corvina quickly re-sheathed her rune-covered katana. "Let's go, Helion!" Robert roared and charged her, dealing heavy blows again and again, giving his foe no time to recover. Corvina grunted as she blocked as many hits as she could, occasionally getting grazed.

Meanwhile, Emil, Marta, and Emerald were all watching with awe as the two traded blows, neither gaining any ground. Marta gripped her spinner nervously. "She can't keep that kind of pace up. If this goes on much longer, then her arm is going to give out."

"What?" Emil asked. "Oh no, this isn't good. We have to warn her!"

Marta shook her head. "No, there's no point. She's obviously been doing this for a long time. I think she's aware of the fact that she can't keep it up."

"What about Robert?" Emerald asked. "He got stabbed earlier, and he had injuries before all this happened."

Marta frowned. "That's what I don't understand. He's lost a lot of blood, so it should start affecting him soon. And the fact that he keeps moving and aggravating the wounds makes it worse. But he looks like he just started fighting."

Emil gazed at the berserker in awe. He licked his lips and told them, "He just won't stop. Unless he's knocked unconscious or keels over and dies, he won't stop."

The two women looked to him. "Huh?" they asked at the same time. Emil looked at them, a small amount of fear shining in his eyes. "In Hank's story, Robert kept killing people until he was knocked out. Since Hank made everyone run away when Robert got like this…"

"That means that he was like this before!" Emerald realized. "Back when he went crazy and killed all those people."

They all returned their attention to the fight, waiting anxiously for a victor to be decided.

Robert made a noise between a whine and a growl. "Why won't Helion listen to me?!" he screeched. Robert pushed away and unfolded the scythe, staring at it. "Wake up, you pile of slag!" Robert gasped in pain and clutched his left eye again. "Dammit! Why won't my body respond right!? Why won't any of them listen to me!? Where the hell am I!?"

Corvina, nearly out of breath, ran towards her target and slashed at him, trying to deal a finishing blow. But Robert batted the attack aside with his scythe. "Just die already!" He yelled, raising his scythe to kill the elf.

Suddenly, a red and white bundle of fur was between them. It bit Robert's hand and pulled the attack to the side, giving Corvina a grazing strike on her stomach. The dog-like animal then proceeded to use its large body to herd the woman away. The monster then turned around and snarled at Robert.

Emil looked at the monster in shock. "That can't be…" he murmured.

"Noishe!?" Emerald asked.

"But… Noishe is green," Marta said.

The new arrival did indeed look much like a red Noishe. However, unlike the shy, cowardly arshis, this one was fierce. Its intelligent eyes glared disapprovingly at Robert. The canine beast held itself in a defensive stance, waiting for its prey to make the first move.

Robert, however, seemed shocked. "Rolshe?" he said haltingly. He touched his hand to his forehead. "Is… Is that… you?"

The arshis, Rolshe, gave a whine, as if confirming the berserker's thought. Robert wobbled on his feet. "If… Rolshe is here… Where… What have I…?"

Suddenly, three blackened throwing knives sailed over the large dog, delving into Robert's shoulders and chest. Whatever had happened to snap Robert out of his madness, it was undone. Robert gave another roar and tried to charge, but he found he couldn't move his arms or upper body. Dark mana had spread a restricting web around his arms and chest, making it nearly impossible for Robert to move properly.

Corvina then dove in out of seemingly nowhere. She slashed Robert three times, her blade glowing darkly. "Ombre Lampeggianti!" she announced. Each of the strikes lit up with dark mana and Robert howled in pain. Corvina took a charging stance, holding her katana at her hip. She rushed forward and ran past the scythe-wielder, slashing once at him as she went. Everything was still for a moment before numerous dark blades eviscerated Robert in an instant. The albino coldly said, "Rinascita del Buio."

Robert swayed for a moment after the attack, most of his armor falling to pieces. Then, the man crumpled to the ground and fell still.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**EVIL CLIFFHANGER!**_

_**Thomas: Why are you yelling at it? You put it there!**_

_**But it mocks me with its uncertainty! What's going to happen? I must know!**_

_**Thomas: You're the one that writes this story! Shouldn't you already know what's going to happen next?**_

… _**I should, shouldn't I?**_

_**Thomas: … You're making this all up as you go along, aren't you?**_

_**More or less. I have a skeleton of what I want to have done all mapped out. I just need to give it some flesh. Organs are optional.**_

_**Thomas: And what's your excuse for the long wait this time?**_

_**Lack of time and internet access over the course of the summer due to my job and its location as well as sudden violent and wondrous inspiration for stories and plots that aren't this one.**_

_**Thomas: Oh yeah, you had an idea for a self-insert.**_

_**In which a crap load of terrible things happen to me. I'm evil even to myself. Though, in reality, my experiences would cause my person to alter drastically, making the self-inserted me become a character in his own right, separate from myself. I'm pretty sure I'm more evil to myself in the story I have planned than what I had William do to Triet.**_

_**Thomas: I don't think it's easy to top that.**_

_**Nope, it's not.**_

_**The worst part is I've already got it so well planned out that I can't possibly NOT do it. Already working on it, in fact.**_

_**Anyway, please leave a review.**_


	24. Chapter 24: The First Step to Atonement

_**Here I am! I didn't get many reviews for last chapter. Makes me kind of sad.**_

_**Corvina: Perhaps they were shocked by the ending.**_

_**Oh, hi Corvina…**_

_**Corvina: …**_

…

_**Corvina: … **__**What?**_

_**I'm not sure whether to be happy or scared that you're here.**_

_**Crvina: What is there to be scared about?**_

_**You're a ruthless, merciless, heartless assassin trained to kill in any number of ways. And I seem to have a habit of angering my characters. **_

_**Corvina: Then the solution is simple: do not anger me.**_

… _**The problem is I don't really know how to anger you, so I don't know how to avoid it.**_

_**Corvina: I'm sure you know a few things to never say.**_

_**True. I know to never disrespect the first, fiftieth, or ninety-ninth Rules of the Assassin within earshot of you… or bowshot.**_

_**Corvina: Correct. Though you haven't mentioned what Rules one and ninety-nine are yet.**_

_**I will.**_

_**Sorry about the wait on this one. My apology gift is this large chapter to all of you. This one's a little angsty, but it's a slow paced angst.**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 24: The First Step to Atonment

The fight's conclusion had been spectacular. In the calm of the aftermath, the spectator in the shadows and his chained companion were discussing the fight.

"Exquisite!" the man proclaimed, "Absolutely stunning. I haven't seen such lust for blood, such thirst for violence, such a _need to kill_ since… ever!" he let out a cackle at that.

The woman, however, was of a very different opinion. She whimpered softly, "He's horrible; a monster given the shape of a man. His appetite for fighting is insatiable."

"I know," the man laughed. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"It's terrifying," the woman breathed.

The man smiled evilly. He licked his lips and chuckled darkly, "That's the point." He watched the downed berserker evilly as he was carried away to the old man's house. "It will serve me well."

The man stood and waved a hand. The chain that bound the woman to the chair shattered. The pieces floated up and reformed the links around the man's outstretched arm. He tugged on it once, nearly forcing the woman onto her stomach. "Come, we have much to do, my pet," he called as he walked away, seeming to fade into the shadows.

The woman followed, pulled along by the chain. Before she faded into the darkness, she cast one last look at the man being carted away. "Perhaps it would have been better if you had never been born, Robert Caston," she whispered. "Or better yet, maybe it would have been best if I hadn't been made. Maybe then, all the madness that has followed you would have ended today." A silent tear stained the ground at her feet as she too was swallowed by the shadows.

* * *

Robert was floating within an ocean of black. A look of utter calm was on his face as he drifted aimlessly in the sea of nothingness. Robert let out a relaxed smile at his surroundings.

"This must be the afterlife," he surmised. "I'm not sure whether this is punishment or reward. Being absolutely isolated like this means I can't put any one in harm's way. But it also means that I am alone." Robert sighed. "That's fine. It's not like I'm not used to being alone."

"Are you so certain that you're alone?"a warped mimicry of Robert's voice echoed throughout the vast expanse of nothing. "And are you so sure you're dead?"

Robert found his body turning to come face to face with someone. Robert gasped, recognizing the small form of a toddler, a rusty dagger clenched tightly in his hand. His clothes were ragged and most likely would have been stained an ugly brown had something else not covered the boy from head to toe. Robert resisted the urge to gag at the sight.

The boy was covered in blood.

The toddler sneered at the man. "Is the sight of yourself really so sickening?" he mocked. Robert blanched as he realized who, or what, the child really was. It was his berserker personified. It was the monster within his mind.

It was the devil that cried for blood.

The boy waved his hand. Immediately, the blank expanse faded as Robert now found himself and the boy in the old "training arena" from the human ranch. Robert looked around, on edge being in the dreadfully familiar facility.

"What do you want?" Robert demanded, fearfully gazing at the child that was his madness.

"The same thing you do," the boy said.

"I don't want to be a murderer," Robert hissed coldly.

"Neither do I," the child replied.

"Liar!" Robert screamed, clenching his fists.

"No I'm not," the boy insisted calmly. "I just want to survive. I just want to be me. I just want my body back."

"What are you talking about?" Robert breathed, narrowing his eyes. After a moment of silence, Robert snapped, shouting, "Say something, you demon! What makes you think my body is yours? Stop pretending you belong in my mind!"

The boy was silent. He merely wiped at his left eye, a habit Robert used to have himself. Robert's breathe hitched at he noticed a shining black gem circling around the boy's left eye. It was in the exact same shape and position as Robert's scar.

Finally, the boy stopped and pointed at Robert. "You're the one who doesn't belong here" he sadly pointed out. "You're the one who stole my future from me. You say you want to die, but really you're terrified of dying. You're afraid to face your sins."

Robert was taken aback. "What the hell are you talking about!" he roared, trying to hide the shaking in his limbs.

The child smiled eerily as he reached up and caressed the gem. "If you want to know so bad, then take off the stupid stone the Desians gave you," he challenged. Then the boy smirked. "But you won't do it, because you know that it's what makes you strong. Without it, you're just a weak, defenseless child. Just like me," he laughed. "Just like your daughter!"

Robert had finally had enough. He lunged at the apparition, causing the illusion to disperse. "Take off the stone, and know my pain," the boy's voice chanted. It seemed to come from everywhere. Robert cried out and tried to cover his ears, but it did nothing to stop the voice from reaching him. It slowly rose in volume, growing louder and louder as more and more voices seemed to join in.

Robert screamed as the floor beneath him seemed to become liquid and he dropped into darkness once more. But the voices still followed him. He found himself drifting towards something, but all he could see was darkness. Then, a pair of red eyes appeared in the distance, quickly growing larger until they were floating high above Robert's head. They were massive. The man tried to run as darkness deeper than black opened before him, but he could do nothing as he was swallowed into an absolute abyss.

* * *

Robert woke with a startled shout that dissolved into a hiss of pain as he aggravated the wound in his stomach. He looked around and found himself in Hank's guest room. Robert felt his body, feeling bandages cover his torso. In the corner, Rolshe, who had apparently evolved into an arshis while she had been separated from the berserker, was curled up into a ball. The dog-like being had her head raised and she was staring at the man she called friend with concern.

Robert slowly raised a hand and fingered the scar on his face. He felt all of the bumps in the unnaturally smooth skin. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that the nightmare was over. Then, the voice of that strange man he had met in Triet echoed in his head.

"_You think you are one but the other is there. When the other is gone, the third's hunger you'll sate."_

A chill washed over Robert's spine as he remembered the words. Combined with that strange dream, what did it mean? Was he nothing more than an illusion? Or was the boy the false one? Robert groaned as he rubbed his head, trying to comprehend it all. One thing was clear: the boy in the dream was obviously the "other" mentioned in the prophecy. But then, who, or what, was the third? What did those eyes and gaping blackness he could only assume was a mouth represent?

Suddenly, the door opened. Robert was snapped out of his reverie as a young girl with light brown hair entered the room. She looked at him with concern. "I heard you scream. Are you alright?" she asked.

Robert was struck with a severe sense of déjà vu.

"_Are you alright? Your screams were so loud they managed to wake my father."_

Robert shook his head at the memory. Krystle was long dead. Robert decided to look towards the girl, following the familiar concern with the same response he gave back then. "Why aren't I dead?" he asked, his tone still bewildered.

The girl huffed. "You make it sound like you wanted to die," she said, folding her arms.

"_Why are you so surprised? You sound like you wanted to die."_

"Where's Hank?" Robert asked, doing his best to suppress the memories of his departed wife. Why were they surfacing now? This girl looked nothing like his beloved, no matter how nostalgic the scene was.

"He's out with my Mom and Dad, giving that Darlak guy a proper burial. I was left here in case you woke up," she explained, coming up to his bedside. "You went berserk and killed him, but Corvina managed to stop you after that. She did quite a number on you though. You probably shouldn't move around too much."

Robert sighed. "How many?" he asked.

"Huh?" the girl responded, confused.

"Just the one arrogant, incompetent thief," another voice answered. Robert and the girl both turned to face the source. Corvina, now with her hood down, was standing in the shadow of a wardrobe, carefully avoiding the light from the windows.

Robert blinked. "Corvina?" he almost shouted, dumbfounded. The girl beside him was just as stupefied. Robert couldn't believe his eyes as he accepted that the almost perfect beauty before him was Corvina.

She had been beautiful with her hood up, but now that he could see her without it outside the heat of battle, she was stunning. Her alabaster hair was tied into a loose braid that fell all the way to her waist, but her bangs were left loose. They only extended to just below her head, framing the argentine mask that was her face. It was smooth and without blemish, the pasty whiteness of her piebald skin shimmering pristinely in the half-light she lurked within. The elf was absolutely stunning, almost as if she had been carved from the purest marble. But the dark and dangerous look in her eyes ruined the image of perfect beauty, bringing the fact that she was a cold-hearted assassin to the forefront of his mind.

"I merely wished to make sure that you made a full recovery," she declared, her dead-eyed gaze falling to the wounded mercenary. "After all, there would be little point in sparing your life if you succumbed to the wounds. Now that you have awakened," she continued, pulling up her hood and hiding the majestic sight beneath once more, "I must take my leave."

"I thought you had left hours ago," the girl beside Robert's bed exclaimed. Robert hadn't even been aware she was there.

'_Wait,'_ Robert thought. '_Corvina. I know I've heard that name before. And she looks so familiar. Her hair is as white as… white as...!'_ Robert's eyes widened as the realization struck him. "Wait!" he called out. Corvina stopped at the doorway and turned, her eyes showing faint curiosity.

"Yes? If you wish to thank me for sparing you, do not bother. I chose to do it myself and I do not expect any form of repayment," she assured.

"I wanted to ask you something," Robert clarified. Corvina folded her arms and gave him a look that practically screamed, "I'm waiting."

Robert cleared his throat and asked, "Do you know someone by the name of Zoe Cuore?" the assassin nodded. "She told me that if I ever met someone that goes by the name of Corvina with white hair and skin and red eyes, to give her a message."

"And that is?" Corvina inquired, impatient to be gone.

"She told me to say, 'Your sister would love to see you again. If it's not too much to ask, could you visit her sometime?'" Robert shook his head, frowning. "I wish I could tell you where to find her, but she tends to wander from town to town at random. I don't even know the next time she'll visit Asgard."

Corvina, however, seemed rather pleased. "It is just like my sorella to do that. Thank you for the message, Robert Caston." Corvina gave a small bow, barely noticeable, before turning and leaving.

Robert breathed a sigh of relief. "I must admit, she puts me on edge. She's nothing like Zoe, that's for sure."

The girl blinked mutely at him. "Umm, who's Zoe?" she asked.

Robert looked at her and blinked, as if he just then remembered she was there. "She's a travelling elf that I've known for a long time. I doubt you'll meet her." Robert shifted to get more comfortable, resting his head on the pillows. "I'm sorry, I don't think I ever asked you your name.

The girl smiled. "I'm Emerald. You might remember me from yesterday. My parents and I tried to get you to take shelter from the rain."

Robert nodded. "Yes, I remember that." Robert sighed. "Sorry for my behavior. You probably don't have a very good impression of me by now."

Emerald waved that away. "It doesn't really matter. I haven't actually gotten a chance to talk to you when you weren't in some kind of funk. Anyway, my Mom healed you up as best she could, and Dad bandaged the wounds that she couldn't heal. There wasn't really anything we could do for your armor, though."

Robert's face fell. "So the dragon's skin is no more?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, her eyes avoiding his.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not like you destroyed it."

"… I don't know," Emerald giggled.

Robert shook his head at her. A few moments passed by in silence between them. Then Robert looked to her. "Could you explain how I got here? That arte of Corvina's really did a number on me."

Emerald nodded. "Sure."

* * *

_Earlier._

_Everything was silent as the world seemed to hold its breath. A gentle wind stirred the battlefield. Corvina had just unleashed a devastating attack, leaving the berserker she fought to crumble to the ground. The insane Robert had not only just been cut down, but essentially sliced to ribbons. It was chillingly brutal. No one dared to move, unable to believe what they had just witnessed._

_The protozoan was the first to break the silence, letting out an alarmed howl as it ran towards the man it had tried to bring back from madness. Wordlessly, Corvina sheathed her weapon and turned towards the wide-eyed trio._

"_If you wish to save his life, you should do your best to heal him now," she told them, her eyes, voice, and posture the exact same as they were before the battle. _

_Marta and Emil shared a look, before they rushed over to Robert. Emerald quickly followed them, casting Corvina a glance. Corvina was watching the girl. Emerald shuddered in fear, knowing that the elf wouldn't think twice about turning her into a bloodied mess either._

_Marta and Emil had already turned Robert over, revealing just how much he was injured. The protozoan, Rolshe, swept its eyes over the man's body. It huffed and trotted a short ways away. The beast flopped to the ground, seeming to get comfortable. Corvina noted with amusement that it was watching her closely. Meanwhile, Marta had begun healing the worst of Robert's injuries while Emil spread medicine on and bandaged some of the lighter ones. _

_Emerald gave the man a quick once-over. He was covered in lacerations. The worst area was around the chest. It wasn't a pretty sight, but they weren't deep enough to be life-threatening. In fact, if a couple of them had been probably a centimeter deeper, they would have punctured several vital organs, ensuring the man's death. _

_But all of the wounds were made in such a way as to be crippling without any long-term effects. Well, all of them except for the stab through the gut. That had clearly meant to be for the kill. But it miraculously had missed anything vital._

_Marta had already noticed as well and glanced up at the elf for a moment before returning to her work. "Why did you avoid killing him?" she asked._

_Corvina sighed at the expected question. "Rule of the Assassin No. 36: Never let talent be wasted. While most of it may lie in that rabid mindset hell-bent on nothing but death and destruction, this man is still extremely talented. It's almost a shame that Father never recruited him. _

"_Rule of the Assassin No. 3: Never kill someone for nothing when you could do it for something. A man like this must have more enemies than that incompetent, petty thief. My services may be called on once again to kill this man. Why do it now when I could be paid to do it later."_

_Marta sighed in response. "I'm assuming that those 'rules' or whatever are what you live your life by? After all, you keep quoting them like they're scripture."_

"_You are correct," Corvina answered. "on both accounts." Corvina shifted, for once actually looking towards the damaged body of the man she had nearly killed. "As the Corvina, it is my duty to set the example for the rest of the family."_

_Emil wiped his hands off on his pants as he finished bandaging the last of Robert's wounds. He looked up at Corvina and gave her an odd look. "'The Corvina'? Isn't that you're name?" Emil asked, confused._

"_It has become my name," Corvina responded. "If you want to ask anything further, then I will warn you: If I speak anything else, then the man before you will die because he will have no one to treat him."_

_Everyone was silent for a moment as the implications sank in. Emil and Marta diligently focused on saving the young guildsman, but they studiously avoided even glancing towards Corvina. Emerald, realizing there was nothing she could do to help, went to try to comfort the arshis. However, the dog-like creature merely sighed and rolled its eyes._

_The silence reigned supreme for a while. Finally, a simple question broke it, "You have a family?" Emerald asked from where she was trying to comfort the arshis. Rolshe was doing her best to ignore the teenager, however. _

_Corvina gave a small chuckle. "You say that likes it's a strange thing. Everyone has a family. Father takes care of many children, though few excel above others." Corvina closed her eyes as she let a small smirk adorn her alabaster face. "My apprentice was supposedly a prodigy, but I suppose humans can only do so much after all. Hopefully the next child assigned to me is at least half-elven."_

"_The question isn't whether she has a family," an elderly male voice called. "It's whether she actually knows what a family is."_

_Everyone's head turned. "Hank!" Emil cried in surprise. The mayor of Stantol waved in response and looked back towards the elven assassin. _

_He pointed at her with his cane and announced, "I can't imagine someone like you caring a lick for anyone. From what I've heard, my guess is that 'Father' of yours is nothing more than a monster that walks like a man and should be put to death for a number of reasons." Hank settled down and stroked his chin. "Of course, that's just this old man rambling. It's not like I know all the details. I could be spot on, but then again, it's possible I couldn't be farther from the truth."_

"_I am glad you admit it," Corvina growled. "Or I would be forced to relieve your shoulders of the burden they carry for insulting the man who took me and my sorella in."_

_Hank sighed, knowing how real the threat was just by looking in her crimson eyes. He shook his head sadly and turned towards the two treating Robert. "How is the lad?" he asked, his voice tired._

* * *

_Present_

Emerald softly closed the door behind her as she left the room Robert was resting in. They had talked for a while after Emerald explained what had happened. The man had been relieved that he hadn't killed most people, but he seemed saddened that Darlak had to die by his hands. Now he had settled into sleep so he could recover more quickly. Emerald was still amazed that Hank was allowing the man he seemed to hate more than anyone to recover in his home.

It was strange to see how different the berserker could act. The first time they met he was an emotional wreck. The second time, he was extremely calm, though he revealed his own madness by the end of it. Now, the mercenary was just another guy, seemingly nothing special about him.

Emerald's thought then shifted to the mysterious assassin Corvina. She was a pure enigma. She acted callous and cold to everyone around her, but at the mention of Zoe (Corvina's sister, perhaps?), the icy exterior seemed to melt a little. She even gave Robert a bow, however slight, as she left. Just what was going on in that elf's head?

By now, Emerald had wandered into the sitting room that the front door opened up into. She took a seat in one of the chairs as she continued to ponder the mysterious assassin. Tut had hopped into her lap and the girl was absently stroking the pup.

She was broken from her thoughts by Tenebrae as he ghosted into existence before her. "Tenebrae!" she cheered, brightening at the sight of the Centurion. "If you're here, then does that mean Thomas and his family will be here soon?"

"Indeed it does, Lady Emerald," the Centurion answered, smiling at the joy on the girl's face. "It seems they ran into trouble of their own relating to the Unborn. It also happens to be that the Sage's are accompanying them, along with a man that I had never thought I would meet again."

Emerald tilted her head. "Really? Who was it?" she asked, curious. It wasn't every day that a Centurion met someone they knew that Emerald hadn't met.

"His name is Kratos Aurion," Tenebrae explained. He then added, "As for why I had expected to never meet him again: I believe it is his duty to explain that. If he should so choose, that is."

"Aurion…" Emerald repeated, a frown on her face. "Is he a relative of Lloyd's? I don't remember him mentioning any extended family."

"I can't say for certain," Tenebrae responded. "But something troubling I found out from them is that they have had their own encounters with the Unborn over the past several weeks."

Just then, the door opened and Emerald looked up to see her parents enter with Hank, who seemed to have a depressed look to his eyes that wasn't there before. "Oh, back from the funeral already?"

"I wouldn't call it a funeral," Hank stated, his voice saddened. "He wasn't a member of my family anymore, so a funeral would be pushing it, especially after what he's done. Let's leave it at putting him to rest."

Hank sighed and sat down, shaking his head. "I know I disowned him, but it still hurts to know that he died. He was the closest thing to family I had left. And now that he's gone…" Hank sighed. After a moment, a dark chuckle escaped his lips, though it was only half-hearted. "Looks like Caston really is the bane of my family after all." Hank looked up and asked, "Speaking of the lad, where is he?"

"He's in the room we put him in earlier," Emerald answered. "He's sleeping right now to regain his strength."

Hank nodded. "I'm glad that he survived at the least. After all, it wouldn't do for him to die before he finally overcame my curse on him."

"Curse?" Marta asked.

"As long as he bears the sorrow of what he did in his heart, he will not be allowed to die," Hank explained. "When the day comes that he finally forgives himself and moves on, then Death will finally come for him. That is my curse upon him, and I will continue to repeat it until I should die."

Emil looked upon the old man sadly. "Your hate for him runs that strong. I can't say I blame you after everything he did. I can't imagine how I would feel if someone killed Marta or Emerald."

Silence reigned for a moment. Tenebrae looked between his lord and the old mayor. "I do believe I missed something in my absence," he noted. "Perhaps you all would care to fill me in?"

"Oh, Tenebrae," Emil cried as he finally noticed the Centurion of Darkness. "You were so quiet over there that I didn't notice you had returned."

"Are Lloyd and Colette almost here?" Marta asked.

The Centurion nodded. "Indeed they are, Lady Marta. They should be arriving…" Tenebrae was cut off as a knock sounded at the door. Tenebrae let out a chuckle as he finished his statement. "Right now!"

Hank sighed as he climbed to his feet, Emil getting up with him. Hank frowned at that. "It's my house, young man," he declared. "Guests shouldn't be welcoming other guests into it."

Emil gave the man a smile. "Yes, but they are here to see me and my family. I think it would be rude of me to not greet them at the door. Besides, I already feel bad enough using your home as a meeting place."

Hank waved the boy's words away as he shuffled to the door. "Nonsense," he reprimanded the summon spirit turned human. "I'm still used to having strangers in my home from when Krystle was still alive. I don't mind some company." He reached out and opened the door, his warm smile greeting a larger number of people than he expected. He turned and looked towards Emil and said to him, "I thought only two or three were coming for you."

Emil, curious, looked around the elderly man and was surprised to see the Sage family along with the Aurions. "What's everyone doing here? I thought only Lloyd, Colette, and Thomas would be visiting us," he asked. Then he added with a smile, "Not that I'm unhappy about seeing you all, that is."

Lloyd grinned his stupid grin as he rubbed the back of his head. "Some things came up. Mind if we step in?"

Hank moved out of the way, allowing the group to enter his humble home. "Come on in. Make yourselves at home, though it will be a little cramped with so many people here. I'm Hank, the mayor of this village of Stantol."

Lloyd nodded, smiling at Hank. He began to introduce himself, "It's nice to meet you Hank. I'm-" He stopped as Hank held up a hand to silence the boy.

"I know who you all are," he told them. "These three have been expecting you, and it's difficult not to know who the mighty Heroes of Regeneration are. New travels far, even into this small town."

Lloyd nodded. "Okay. Thanks for letting us into your home."

Hank waved it away. "Nonsense," he said. "As the mayor of this town, I must set an example for the townspeople. If I am not hospitable to strangers, then how can I expect the ones under my jurisdiction to do so?"

Colette smile brightly at the old man's words. "Wow," she admired. "That's really admirable of you!"

Hank smiled at the woman. "It's nothing major, miss. Now, why don't you all take a seat and I'll make some tea for everyone? I hope I have enough." Hank vanished into the kitchen as he set about making refreshments.

The group accepted the man's words and found places to linger all around the room. Lloyd, Colette, Genis, Raine, and Presea all sat near Emil and Marta, happily exchanging greetings and asking how things had been. Thomas, Sylpher, and Sylvia all pulled up chairs next to Emerald. Tut had been excited by all the new people that had arrived and was investigating them all. Kratos, who was unfamiliar with the two newer members of the second journey, stood near the fire, watching as Noishe investigated a closed door nearby. The arshis seemed to think someone or something important was behind the door.

Emil noticed the auburn-haired seraph. He felt a twinge of recognition at the man's appearance. "Who's that?" he asked Lloyd, signaling towards Kratos.

Marta looked over with everyone else, her brow furrowing at the sight of the man. "He looks like an older version of Thomas," she ovserved. The teens also stopped what they were doing and looked towards the man who was hundreds of times their elder.

Kratos took note of the attention on him. He shifted slightly, his hand resting near the hilt of the Flamberge, more as a subconscious reaction than anything. Tenebrae chuckled and with a smile, "Lord Emil, Lady Marta, Lady Emerald, may I present to you Kratos Aurion, Hero of the Kharlan War?"

Emerald and Marta's eyes widened at the announcement, while Emil just closed his eyes. "Kratos…" he murmured to himself. Then, a memory came back to him. Just before he went to meet Marta in Altamira, he had gone to visit Yuan at the New World Tree. "You're Lloyd's father, right?" he asked, thinking back to the time he had seen Yuan contacting Kratos for the final time through the two trees.

Everyone seemed surprised by that announcement, but Kratos simply nodded. "Yes, I am," he confirmed. "I assume you're remembering when we met as the World Tree's grove all those years ago. And as I recall, you are Ratatosk. You don't need to explain anything else to me, Lloyd already informed me of everything that happened after I finally went out of contact."

Lloyd looked between Emil and his father, confusion plain on his face. "Wait, how did you two meet before? Dad's been on Derris-Kharlan for the past twenty-two years!" he demanded. He wasn't the only one confused, everyone else staring at the seraph and summon spirit as if they had grown two heads and started spewing fire.

Kratos sighed. "For a time, I could communicate between this world and Derris-Kharlan through the tree here and the tree on Derris-Kharlan."

"Derris-Kharlan has a mana-giving tree of its own?" Colette asked.

"Yes," Kratos nodded before explaining, "Derris-Kharlan is a mass of mana. A second Giant Kharlan Tree was planted on it after the elves moved to Aselia. Otherwise it would not have continued to exist. Yuan and I, through these two trees, could communicate, though after two years, around the time of the incident in the Ginungagap, Derris-Kharlan drifted too far away for even the trees to be able to communicate."

Kratos looked to his son, his eyes showing concern, though his face was still carefully blank. "I had asked Yuan not to tell you about it," he said. "I felt that after saying goodbye when you sent me off to the comet, it would be cruel to speak to you again only to force you to say goodbye once more."

Lloyd sighed at that. "I see," he said. "Well, it doesn't matter now, it's in the past. And you're here now anyway, so I can't really be mad."

Marta looked towards Tenebrae. "But I'm still wondering one thing. Tenebrae, why did you call him a 'Hero of the Kharlan War'?" she asked, curious.

The original Heroes all looked to each other. "That one's a little harder to explain," Genis started.

Raine sighed, folding her arms. "Emil, Marta, Emerald. You all know the story of the World Regeneration," she assumed. Receiving nods from the three, she continued on, "While most of what we told the world was true, we kept a lot out. If we didn't, the world may have erupted into chaos."

"One of the things we kept was the true nature of angel organization, Cruxis, and the Desians," Presea explained.

Kratos stepped forward, looking each of the three in the eye. "I am Kratos Aurion, companion of Mithos the Hero and one of the four who ended the Kharlan War. I am one of the Four Seraphim of Cruxis, and I am also the one who taught Mithos the way of the sword," he announced. He said everything with a straight face and a tone that left no room for disbelief.

Emil, Marta, and Emerald all stared at him in wonder. "You're an angel?" Emerald asked. Kratos nodded.

Before anyone else could say anything, Hank came in, carrying a tray with an assortment of cups and a steaming tea kettle. "I didn't have enough tea cups, so some of you will have to make do with earthenware or tin," he explained. Everyone looked to him as if they had forgotten about him. The man blinked at them all. "I just walked in on something dramatic and killed the mood, didn't I?" he asked.

Thomas smiled bashfully and looked away from the mayor. "Well, I guess I'll be the one to say you're right," he admitted.

Hank sighed. "I'll give you all your tea and get out of your hair then," he told them as he began to pass out cups. "I know when an old fogey like me shouldn't stick his nose in something."

"You should not feel so unwelcome," Kratos told the elder as he accepted his cup. "This is your home, after all. We have no right to force you out."

"Thank you for your concern, young man," Hank replied as he filled the cup. Kratos sniffed a little at being called 'young', but the irony was lost on the mayor. "But I have an injured son-in-law to look after, not to mention that strange monster that followed him here."

Emerald perked at that. "Mr. Hank," she called, gaining his attention, "Robert told me her name was Rolshe." Lloyd and company were surprised at the name, though none of the Castagniers noticed.

Hank shook his head. "Impossible. That creature looks just like these people's dog over there," he said, gesturing to Noishe. "Rolshe is a great big bird with red and white plumage. There's no way that animal is the same creature. I would know. After all, Robert first befriended the bird through Krystle."

"Excuse me," Raine said, interrupting the two. "But the man you keep mentioning, Robert, we may know him. Would this Robert happen to be Robert Caston?"

"It would."

Genis smiled. "Then we've seen Rolshe before as well. She was an aeros, a great big bird like you mentioned, but you say there's another creature with him now?"

Emerald nodded. "Yeah, during a fight that happened earlier today, this creature that looked almost just like Noishe except that it had red fur where he has green jumped into it. I asked Robert about it and he said that she was an old friend of his, and that her name was Rolshe."

Kratos smiled at the news. "I see. I think we may know what's going on. Hank," the seraph turned to the mayor, "It turns out the one you know as Rolshe is a protozoan, a rare type of monster that evolves over its lifetime. What you may be used to seeing is the creature in its aeros state. Rolshe was also still in its aeros state when we last saw it in Triet. It would appear that over the time between when Rolshe left us then and when she arrived here, she evolved into her next state, that of an arshis. As you can see, Noishe is also an arshis."

Hank blinked at the angel. "So, in other words, the monster changed from being a bird to being a dog," he summarized.

"That is what we believed to have happened," Raine explained.

Hank looked over to Noishe, who was pawing slightly at the door he had been investigating earlier. "And your Noishe fellow is a boy, right?"

Lloyd nodded. Hank smiled. "Then that explains why he keeps trying to get into that room. That's where Robert's recovering. Rolshe is staying near him, so he might be trying to get to her."

Sylpher gaped at the way the man accepted the story without hesitation. "You're taking the word of complete strangers over this when what they are telling you sounds too outrageous to be true?" he asked in disbelief.

"While I do not know any of you personally," Hank began, looking to the young fourth-elf, "And while I may not have a reason to trust you, neither do I have a reason to distrust you." he finished pouring everyone tea and headed towards the door. "I'll let your arshies or whatever you said they were called into the room to say hello to Rolshe. She's not too friendly to most so I doubt she'll be very responsive, but I guess it's best to let the two meet. I'll stay in there and look after Robert so you all can talk without worrying about spilling any secrets this old man shouldn't know."

With those final words, Hank opened the door, letting Noishe enter before him before he too walked through, closing it behind him.

Lloyd looked towards Emil. "So, how exactly do you guys know Robert?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," the younger man responded.

"We should not lose focus on what we were discussing before," Kratos lectured, staring at the two. "We can exchange information about the most recent events after we inform them of the true happenings of the World Regeneration."

Lloyd nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry," he apologized. Then he looked up to Emil and Marta, his face becoming serious once more. "Anyway, you three should prepare yourselves for what you're about to learn. I'm not sure if it will be easy for you to accept, but it's the absolute truth."

As they heard the story, the Castagniers found it difficult to believe what had truly happened, but they accepted it eventually. Kratos noticed that the girl, Emerald, looked at him with a hint of fear in her eyes now, but it didn't bother him. He had lived far too long for a single girl's thoughts on him to affect him.

After Kratos's presence was explained, they all exchanged stories on what had happened. While Lloyd's group had certainly had their own level of confusion strewn throughout their adventure so far, it had nothing on what had happened in Luin.

Too many questions were left open. Why would Xeralisk want to enter Nieflheim? What had happened to Samyaza that it forced him to become Nazo again? Who exactly was Nazo in the first place? Why did the God of Space and the Goddess of Magic decide to visit them when they did? More importantly, how did the Goddess of Magic know Ratatosk? Just who was this Corvina?

Kratos wandered the streets of Stantol, pondering these things and more. Sleep was not a luxury he chose to indulge in that night. The moons shone brightly in the sky, blotting out many of the stars with its radiance. Kratos stopped for a moment and gazed up, watching the points of light that had always watched him. Though the twin moons covered most of his beloved stars with their light, he felt comforted seeing them. It had been so long since he saw both of them in the same sky.

Kratos sighed and continued on. As he meandered along, he noticed that he was not the only one on a midnight stroll. Robert Caston, now without his customary armor, was crouched in the graveyard, Rolshe sitting not too far away. Kratos decided to confront the mercenary as his feet began to lead him towards the graves.

Rolshe gave the man a quick glance, but quickly lost interest. Kratos stopped beside the crouching Robert. Robert sighed and looked up, wincing as he stretched some of the wounds hidden by the gauze around his chest. "You're up rather late, Kratos," he noted, his eyes full of unexpressed sorrow. Near the end of the discussion, Robert had awoken and left his room to relieve himself. He was surprised at the sight of everyone there. However, he was mostly left alone to recover.

Kratos did not respond and looked to the grave that Robert was in front of. He saw the name and remembered the story Ratatosk and his family told him. It still felt strange to think of the Summon Spirit of the Giant Kharlan Tree as having a family. But that was beside the point.

"I heard from Emil, Marta, and Emerald why you were here in the first place and what had happened in the past," Kratos told the man, his voice unchanging.

Robert made a dismissive sound and looked away. "I'm sure you're here to tell me to move on with my life as well. Save your breath, because I've heard it all before."

Kratos looked towards the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the moonlight glint off of something metal near the cross that was placed beside the grave. Kratos knelt and examined it, seeing a locket with a portrait of Robert and a woman who could only be his late wife. He was struck by the similarity between that picture and the one he had given Lloyd of him, Anna, and Kratos.

"I killed them both," Robert said after a prolonged silence. "It hurts to know that. I wasn't in control, but that only makes me blame myself more. If I was stronger, then I could've prevented my berserker side from killing them. I was literally the only one who could do anything, but I was powerless because I was the one causing the problem."

Robert let silent tears fall from his eyes and he tightened hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white. Then, Kratos's baritone voice entered his ears. "A long time ago, long before Lloyd and his friends regenerated the world, I had fallen in love myself." Robert looked dully towards the other mercenary, wondering where he was going.

Kratos continued, his gaze now upon the heavens once more. "She was a prisoner in a Human Ranch. The Asgard Human Ranch, to be precise." Robert raised an eyebrow in surprise. Kratos looked to Robert, his eyes filled with pained memories. "Her name was Anna. She was part of the Angelus Project, an experiment trying to produce a Cruxis Crystal within a human host. She had been equipped with her own exsphere, Key Crestless like every other prisoner's. I'm sure you were given one as well."

Robert unconsciously put a hand to his scar. He nervously looked to see if Kratos had noticed, but the Seraph was once again looking at the stars, his eyes a million miles and several decades away. "We ran from the Desians. We ran for years. Over time, she and I fell in love and we eventually eloped. Soon after, we had a son, Lloyd."

"Wait," Robert interrupted. "You're Lloyd's father? But you're way too young!"

Kratos closed his eyes and smirked. "I assure you, I am far older than I appear," he said. "As I was saying, Anna and I, now carrying the infant Lloyd, continued to flee. After three years, they had finally caught up to us, trapping us against a cliff. I did my best to protect my family, but it wasn't enough.

"They removed her Key Crestless exsphere, causing her to morph into a monster. She turned on Lloyd, Noishe jumping to protect the toddler. That's where Noishe got his fear of monsters and why he doesn't fight anymore." Robert nodded.

Kratos continued his tragic tale, "After severely injuring Noishe, Anna managed to regain herself. She begged me to kill her. But I… I couldn't. She was everything to me. Even as warped and twisted as she had become, she was still my beautiful Anna.

"She pleaded for me to see that it was the only way. I knew she was right, but my heart couldn't bear to accept it. Without her and Lloyd, I wasn't sure if I would have been able to go on.

"Soon after, she lost her mind again. She turned on Noishe and Lloyd once more. Unable to watch my only son be killed in front of me, I acted without thinking. I struck forward, feeling my blade plunge into her chest." Kratos mimicked his actions then, having long forgotten his audience. "Then I tore it across her chest, the Flamberge searing flesh as I killed the one I loved.

"Horrified by my own actions, I could only watch as she staggered away. In her death throes, she knocked Lloyd and Noishe off the cliff. Her last words to me… The last time I heard her sweet voice say something, was when she managed to say thank you as she fell off the cliff herself." Kratos's voice was filled with unexpressed sorrow, his eye longingly gazing at the moons, as if asking them why it had to be so.

After a moment to collect himself, Kratos turned to face Robert. "I had killed the one I loved more than anything with my own hands. After I finished with the rest of the Desians, I descended the cliff to look for my son. I searched everywhere, but the only thing I could find was a blood covered boot that Lloyd had been wearing. I had thought him dead. In the end, he was found and raised by Dirk, a dwarf that lived nearby. Noishe had also been found and cared for by the dwarf."

Kratos sighed, looking away from the mercenary once more. "I carried the pain of having killed my wife and lost my child for fourteen years. When I found him, I couldn't bring myself to face him. How could he accept me when I had abandoned him? How could I expect him to look at me with love and adoration like he used to when I had killed his mother with my own hands? So I kept it from him. Eventually, he found out from someone else.

"I tried to atone for my sins, the sins I have told you and others I committed throughout my life, by having him fight and kill me. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say that my death was necessary to reunite the worlds. He didn't kill me, but what needed to happen was done anyway. It was that day that Lloyd opened my eyes."

Kratos looked to Robert, meeting the man in the eyes. Robert himself was watching Kratos with an awed expression, barely daring to blink. "While my circumstances may be different, and while I still have my child, our burdens are similar. At least you have the comfort – however slight it may be – that you weren't in complete control of yourself when you did it. But I have the comfort – however slight – that by doing what I did I spared my son's life.

"But, that is not why I told you all of this," Kratos added with a small sigh. "When Lloyd spared my life, he told me that there was no use in dying. I had sought to atone for my mistakes by dying. But he made me realize that that isn't atonement. You can only atone for what you have done while you are alive. If you seek punishment, then you will only be disappointed more when it is denied. I learned that if I truly regretted everything I had done, then I had to live and work to make up for it all."

Kratos fell silent at last and Robert could only stare at him. After several moments of silence, he opened his mouth. "You're right," he said. "I have been running from what I did. It's hard to face it. You're also right when you say that we are similar. We both bear the burden of having killed the ones we love. My burden is still greatly different from what you experienced. And I feel that there will be no happy conclusion to my tragedy. But you have given me much to think about.

"When I was spared by Hank all those years ago, I felt devastated. I wanted to know why he didn't have me killed. I wandered for several weeks, living off the land. I'm not sure why I did. Maybe I secretly hoped that a monster would come and kill me. Maybe I was just tired of life amongst people. Rolshe was very worried over my behavior.

"But one day, I made a decision. If my madness was what caused all this, then I would do my best to control that madness." Robert clenched his fists tightly. "I trained myself mentally through harsh training. I learned to suppress the monster in my head almost entirely, if not completely. I felt that by doing so I could face everyone again.

"But that was just me grasping at straws. I returned to work, but tragedy still followed me. And more importantly, the ache in my heart has never vanished. The fact that I wasn't punished ate away at my conscience. I've always been seeking some form of penance for my actions."

Kratos nodded. "Then, do not seek penance," he advised. "And instead seek to atone."

"But how can I atone for that?" Robert demanded, slamming his fist into the ground. "What can I do to possibly make up for all the lives I stole in cold blood?"

"I cannot answer that," Kratos said. "I may have atoned for killing Anna without realizing it. On the journey, Kvar, the master of the Asgard Ranch and the man responsible for the situation that forced me to kill Anna, was killed by Lloyd and me.

"As for the other wrongs I had done, I sought to atone for them by doing something that has forced me to remain away from Lloyd and almost everyone else for the past twenty-two years. I do not know how you can atone for what you have done. Only you can figure that out."

Kratos stood and turned to face Robert fully. "I don't know what you can do, but I do know what the first step is." Kratos folded his arms across his chest. "I'm certain you will not like to hear it, for I know I didn't want to know it when I learned it."

Robert looked up to his elder. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes still full of sadness.

Kratos stretched out his hand. "The first step," he said, his voice firm and calm, "is to forgive yourself." Robert looked at Kratos in shock. Kratos continued before the man could say anything. "When I say this, I do not mean for you to forget what happened, or to forget the pain you carry. What I tell you to do is to remember the story and remember the pain, but not to let that pain drive you. You can't move forward as long as you keep looking back. You'll just be stuck in the same place."

Robert's eyes were wide with fear. He was afraid of forgiveness. He wasn't even sure if what he had done was forgivable. Robert's voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "A man is trapped within a pit. You wish to take that man out of the pit. However, the man doesn't want to come out. He wishes to remain in that pit. Do you force him to come out, or do you leave him there?" He asked, hiding behind his old anecdote.

Kratos was silent for a moment. "Neither," he answered. Robert looked at him in surprise. "I would search for someone who had been in that same pit, and have him tell the man why he should come out. Now that he is given a valid reason to leave, the man will no longer want to stay in the pit, and will leave it of his own free will."

Robert smiled and laughed to himself. "I've never heard anyone give such an answer. You win, Kratos. This man no longer wants to be in his pit." With those words, Robert reached up and took Kratos's still outstretched hand. "I am glad to have met you, Kratos Aurion." Kratos allowed himself a small smile as he pulled Robert to his feet.

Instead of letting go, Robert kept his grip strong, shifting it to the seraph's wrist. "Thank you for sharing your story with me. I know myself how painful that must have been. I'll try to forgive myself. I might not be able to do it right away, but I will try."

Kratos nodded. "And by doing that much," he informed, "You have already taken the first step."

Robert let a sad smile spread on his face. He turned back to face the graves, silence reigning once more. Unlike before, however, Robert's eyes were not filled with despair, but hope. Kratos looked to Robert still bandaged chest. "You should return to your bed soon. You still haven't recovered from your wounds," he admonished.

Robert shook his head. "No, I was planning on heading out tonight. Today was my last day visiting Stantol." Robert gave Kratos a smirk. "Besides, I can't properly forgive myself if I stay here, can I?" he asked.

Kratos gave a small laugh disguised as he customary "Hmph". "If that is what you feel is right then do as you will," Kratos answered before walking off. Robert looked towards the grave and reached down to place a hand upon the words he had carved himself.

"I know I swore over and over I wouldn't ask for forgiveness," he began. "But you've probably known for longer than I have that deep down, I wanted to be forgiven. So now, at this time, I'll break my oath, and ask you to forgive me. And I also ask that you help me to forgive myself."

Robert turned towards the small cross. "My daughter, I don't' know if you are as willing to forgive as your mother, or if you've already forgiven me like she probably has, but I'll ask the same from you. I'll also ask for your help in guiding me to atonement.

"I want to become a man you can be proud to call your father, instead of the shameless wreck I've been for the past five years. I want to make myself into a man that doesn't have to duck his head and claim to be unworthy of being your father. Now, I want to do more than earn the right to say I'm a father, but earn the right to say that I'm your father. You and I both know that that's what I've wanted all along. If you hate me when I see you in the afterlife, I'll understand. But at least now I'll be able to say I did my best to make it up to you. I don't know how I will, but I'll do it."

His farewell completed, Robert Caston struck out into the moonlit night. Rolshe followed him closely, looking up at her companion. She looked back to see the purple dot that was the man who had affected him so much. She gave a small bark, as if thanking the man, though he wouldn't be able to hear it.

But unbeknownst to Robert or Rolshe, Kratos had heard it. Thanks to his angelic hearing, he had heard the words Robert had said to his dearly departed. He also heard the arshis's thanks, knowing from all his time with Noishe what it meant.

Kratos closed his eyes and let a serene smile spread across his face. He was glad he was able to help the man out. "I saw more of myself in that man than I care to admit," he murmured to himself. "I am glad that I could help him move on in his life." He gave a small chuckle and looked to the stars once more. "I wonder what you would say if you could see how soft I've gotten," Kratos whispered, "Anna." He let her name slip off his tongue, relishing each syllable. He knew, somewhere in his heart, that his beloved was watching him with a smile spread across her face.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**I would like to say that all similarities between Kratos's and Robert's past were not planned out at the start and I only noticed them myself when I planned the scene for Kratos to give Robert some advice. I realize that Kratos seems slightly out of character, being all nice and open like this, but at the same time he isn't. If you want to know my reasoning, just ask me in a review or a pm. **_

_**Now we get more questions and still have so few answers. And what is up with Robert? He wasn't this messed up when I made him. At least, I hadn't thought he was. I know he wasn't on the cusp of having an identity crisis. But I'm glad Kratos was able to help him out of his pit.**_

_**Corvina: You appear to have a thing for mentally disturbed characters.**_

_**What makes you say that?**_

_**Corvina: Robert, Lucifer, William, Feral… Need I go on?**_

_**Nope. I see your point.**_

_**Corvina: What took you so long to update this time?**_

_**Well, over the summer I got the Tales of the Abyss remake for the 3DS and I needed to finish that up. Final boss is a pain to get to and to beat. Especially since I had to go back to town after I left the dungeon once to try to get some more side quests done, then went all the way back to the spot before the final boss when I realized I hadn't restocked. Cue facepalm followed by leaving once more and trecking all the way back. Eldrant is almost longer than Tarqaron in ToV.**_

_**Wonderful game, by the way. I must say I like the approach taken with the main hero and heroine Luke and Tear. Refreshing change from the idealistic hero and naïve heroine. **_

_**I also got the GBA version of Tales of Phantasia. I'd say I'm halfway through that. It's wonderful how it's a distant sequel to ToS. It gives me future knowledge to what probably would have been massive plot twists. I enjoyed seeing Martel and I confirmed the belief that the New World Tree is to be called Yggdrasil. Can't wait to fight Dhaos, if I can get to him.**_

_**I also borrowed Tales of Legendia from a friend. Haven't gotten around to starting it yet, but it seems interesting. I've seen a little gameplay, though, and it will be nowhere near as good as any of the others I've played so far.**_

_**All in all, I've been a playing a bunch of games. And I expanded my experience with the Tales series, solidifying my view of how awesome the series is. Now I just need to get Tales of Graces and beat it before my brother, who is now living at home again, gets an apartment and takes his PS3 with him. **_

_**Corvina: You really do need to work on your priorities. To allow all of that to get in your way is disappointing to me.**_

_**Yeah, I know. I'm also looking for a job, so when I get one it will interfere as well. **_

_**Anyway, now that that's over, we get to head to Asgard! Hooray! (throws confetti)**_

_**Corvina: It seems that according to his plans, I will show up again much sooner than you all might expect.**_

_**What? Aren't you happy to see your big sis again?**_

_**Corvina: … **_

_**Oh… yeah… right. (clears throat) Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Please leave a review! Next arc begins next chapter, and let me tell you, we'll be in Asgard for a long while.**_


	25. Chapter 25: An Elven Visitor

_**Welcome back. Now we are moving on to Asgard.**_

_**Lucifer: Hello again, everyone. **_

_**Lucifer! (hugs) I've missed you, my little source of foreshadowing!**_

_**Lucifer: Why are you hugging me?!**_

_**I'm a very huggy person in reality. I like to hug. Usually I show this whenever I hug my brother's dog. He's just so huggable!**_

_**Lucifer: Please refrain from doing so to me. I do not enjoy such signs of affection from others.**_

_**What if it was Jenny?**_

_**Lucifer: Jenny is an exception. Besides, hugging just really doesn't seem to suit you.**_

_**Aw. Okay, fine. I won't hug you again. Even though you're so huggable. **_

_**Lucifer: You have my gratitude.**_

_**There's an excellent reason as to why Lucifer is here. He's coming back!**_

_**Lucifer: Though I still have yet to regain my Thread Divining. **_

_**Yes. After all, that's the almighty spoiler ability. **_

_**And I have a very good reason for my long wait this time. It's a little embarrassing and rather personal, but you all deserve to know it.**_

_**Lucifer: He's been having a small existential crisis.**_

_**Yeah. You know, the classic "What am I doing here? What's my purpose in life? What am I doing now?" questions. It's gotten me kind of out of wack and I just couldn't really get into the persona of Lucifer very well. Or writing in general. A small case of Writer's Block after the aforementioned crisis didn't help things. On the bright side, I think I know what I'm going to do with myself now. On top of that, I'm trying to find a job and having no luck and I'm planning on moving out with some friends into an apartment so those ate up quite a bit of my time.**_

_**Anyway, I'm sure you're tired of watching me talk. But I just want to assure you that this story will only go on hiatus at the most. And if it does, I will try to tell you next time. I will not end this story. I've quit on too many things in my life, and I won't quit on this. Besides, I love you people too much. The only way I could love any of you more is if you reviewed regularly. **_

_**Lucifer: Now, on with the story.**_

_**Cute, familial fluff is in store for you here along with some not so familial fluff. Tis a fluffy chapter. We get to see how Lucifer and Jenny have been doing since they got scarred for life in Triet. And yet another OC is added. This one is a musician and since I'm uncomfortable writing songs, I'm just going to use lyrics from professional artists. Anyway, next chapter, we progress into something I would like to call the "Festival of Troubles" arc. Yes, that does mean I'm going to be evil once more. And yes, everything is fair game to me.**_

_**And everyone. (Evil smile)**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 25: An Elven Traveler

Birds chirped in the morning air as Lucifer finally roused from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open only to smash close as the blinding sunlight made itself known. The young boy pushed the covers off of him and sat up, holding an arm up to block the sun. He looked around the room.

It was a humble room. It was sparsely furnished with two beds with a window above each and a nightstand between them. Lucifer noticed without surprise to see that the bed beside his was empty. Since the sunlight had been the culprit of his wakening that could only mean that the sun was high in the sky. Lucifer yawned and stood up stretching his muscles. He was well aware that he shouldn't sleep in so late. But at the same time, he was just a six-year-old boy with a tragic past who had just been freed from a life-long curse. He deserved to be allowed to sleep in a little.

It had been several weeks since he and Jenny were taken to Asgard by the massive aeros Rolshe. What surprised them the most was how the beast changed shape into that of a dog shortly afterwards and ran off. Lucifer had taken to resting as much as he could, though he had been sleeping in later and later. Lucifer didn't mind, since he didn't actually have anything in particular to do for once. The mature boy quickly dressed himself in his desert clothing, carefully wrapped his head in a turban, and headed out of the door into the hallway. He automatically walked towards the front of the building and entered the main chamber of the guild hall.

Lucifer looked around the hall as he entered. Banners depicting the symbol of the guild, a wave crashing against a cliff with a Balacruf ruin reminiscent of the Balacruf Mausoleum overlooking it, hung from the ceiling. Trophies of all kinds decorated the walls, chief among them being the head of a dragon with some kind of organ below it labeled as "Dragon Stomach". Why that was even present was a mystery to the young boy.

There were two floors to the massive room. The bottom floor held the kitchens, the bar, the board for jobs, and a large tavern area. The second floor consisted of a balcony which held doors to the living quarters and the guild master's office.

An older man was the only occupant of the expansive room when Lucifer entered. He was sitting at one of the tables near the entrance sipping some coffee as he read the newspaper. The remains of what was most likely lunch sat before him. Lucifer smiled, something he had been doing a lot more of recently, and approached the gentleman, sitting next to him. As he sat he acknowledged his sole companion, "Good morning, Mr. Estanque."

The old man looked up from his paper and smiled, pushing a plate loaded with sausage and eggs that the boy hadn't noticed before in front of him. Sam Estanque was his name, and he was the guild master of the Waves of Balacruf. Robert had sent the man a letter along with the brother and sister, detailing what had happened. The old man was more than happy to take the two youngsters in. They were given their own room in a rarely used and seldom visited corner of the barracks. Faces came and went in the guild hall, but both children were grateful for the new home.

"Well, good morning lad. Or should I say afternoon?" he responded, his voice light and cheery as he watched the child begin to eat his breakfast. "About time you woke up. Keep this up and you'll become nocturnal if you're not careful."

Lucifer chuckled. "On your break, I see. And you don't need to worry about me. You know how I am."

"Indeed I do, boy," Sam replied with a knowing smile. "But that doesn't mean that an old man like me can't help but worry for a young lad like you. I'm glad to see you smiling so much. When you came here, I wasn't sure if you were capable of such a thing. I could have sworn someone had tied the corners of your mouth to your chin and you had completely forgotten about it!"

Lucifer frowned at that. Despite his life, despite his gift, and despite his demeanor, Lucifer was still a child. Sure, he was mature beyond his years, but that didn't mean that he didn't like to do all the things a child loved. "You're so mean, old man," Lucifer pouted.

Sam just laughed heartily. "Running a guild for a few decades will do that to a person," he responded. He pulled off a part of the paper and handed it to Lucifer. "Here're your comics, as usual. You can have the rest of the paper when I'm done with it."

Lucifer accepted the offered portion and spread it out before him. As he read, he asked, "Are you so sure it's alright for you to still be here when you've already finished lunch?"

Sam sighed. "Well, there's not a whole lot to do today. The whole town is preparing for the festival that's just around the corner, so there aren't as many jobs being commissioned. The new recruits are training, but I've gotten too old to be much help with that. Still wish I could go out there myself, though," the veteran sighed wistfully. "And I've got paperwork to fill out. But let's be honest: the longer I can put that off, the better."

Lucifer laughed at that. Sam hated paperwork with a passion. It was his least favorite part of being in charge of a guild. A comfortable silence passed between the two. Eventually, it was broken by the boy. "Do you know where Jenny is?"

"She's out with some of her new friends," Sam responded.

"I see," Lucifer said, a distant smile on his face. "I am glad that she managed to find friends so quickly."

Jenny had recovered well from the traumatic experience. She had repressed the entirety of the event from when the flames flew into the air to the morning they had woken up in Asgard. Lucifer had to carefully explain how they could no longer go back to Triet to her. She was confused and hurt at first, but she quickly got over it, excited by her new surroundings.

Of course, while she could no longer remember what happened, it still affected her subconscious. She awoke screaming with night terrors regularly, which helped contribute to Lucifer's growing habit of sleeping in. He was always beside her in a flash, shushing her, telling her that everything was alright. Occasionally she would remember a fragment of a nightmare, which Lucifer would merely say was just a dream. Also, she was terrified of fire. So much so that that the mere flame of a candle could drive her to tears from fear.

"Speaking of finding friends, Lucifer," Sam said, bringing the boy out of his reverie, "Have you found any yourself?"

Lucifer frowned and shook his head. "Kids my age are frightened by me. They can't understand my speech and I find it difficult to talk on their level. As for the older boys, they're just as frightened of me, though they show it differently. Some avoid me, some ignore me, and some try to bully me."

Sam frowned. "What do you do to those blokes?"

Lucifer shrugged. "It depends," he answered cryptically.

"On what?"

Lucifer hummed, chewing carefully. "It depends on what they do to me. If they just merely insult or demean me, I simply ignore them. If they try to hurt me, I respond in kind." Lucifer had been getting trained by Sam on occasion, learning some light hand-to-hand combat skills. It wasn't a lot, but it was just enough that Lucifer could overpower an unsuspecting teenage bully.

Sam let out a chuckle before he folded his paper. Handing it to Lucifer, he stood and stretched. "Well, lad, this old man has some paperwork to fill out," he said as his face became solemn. The man looked like he was about to walk into a monster's den with nothing but a dagger. "Wish me luck."

"It's paperwork, Sam, not a dragon," Lucifer teased.

"I'd take the dragon," Sam replied without looking towards the youth as he walked off. Lucifer laughed at his elder's antics. Sam gave the boy one final wave and a pitiful smile. Lucifer laughed even harder as the old guild master vanished into the confines of his office, a dark look painting his face.

As Lucifer finally calmed down, he turned his attention towards the newspaper. Information on the upcoming festival was what covered the front page. Lucifer had gotten into the habit of checking the news because he wanted to know if news of Triet's destruction had made its way into the open. It hadn't yet, but about a week ago something had happened in Luin involving several people and a couple of strange, unidentified monsters no one had seen before.

Sam was well aware of what had happened thanks to Robert's letter. However, the man hadn't told anyone because if he did, he knew that Lucifer and Jenny would be branded as children of calamity and shunned for surviving. Even if they weren't, the old man knew that Lucifer and Jenny would undoubtedly receive pity that they either didn't want or couldn't understand if others knew, so he kept it to himself. After all, No one wanted to be treated as a plague merely for being alive.

The festival was an annual occurrence in the City of Winds. It was known as the Festival of Winds, and it's said that its origin was in the Balacruf Dynasty itself. It was a week-long celebration. No one was sure what it was meant to celebrate anymore, but some speculated it had something to do with the Sylph.

Jenny was looking forward to the festival quite a bit, and Lucifer was as well. Once, he would have dreaded all of the people that would gather for the festival. Even now, the inns were nearly bursting with people that had come from across the continent to participate in the festivities and many stalls were being set up to provide entertainment for the avid festival goers.

Not surprisingly, many people had come over from Luin this year in response to the tragic event that took place there. While the devastation was nowhere near Triet's level, it was still bad. Quite a few people died and a large number of homes were destroyed, not to mention the main square being totally decimated. Another spark of news that had escaped a larger amount of fanfare due to the awe-inspiring destruction that occurred in the city was the brutal and downright psychotic murder of an elderly couple within their own home. The only reason they knew who had died was because of the fact that they were the house's residents.

Lucifer sighed in sorrow at the darker side of humanity's nature. He knew both the good and the bad of humanity. In a way, you could say he had lived on both ends of the spectrum. And at the same time he has barely lived at all. The curse of the gift that was his birthright had stolen his entire childhood from him. He had hoped for a second chance with it gone now, but that was impossible.

Even after its removal, Thread Divining had left its terrible and irreversible mark on Lucifer's psyche. He could never revert to the child he was meant to be. But Lucifer didn't mind. Perhaps it was better this way. After all, if not for his gift, then he and Jenny would probably have starved to death long before Triet was destroyed. And again, the gift enabled him to keep a calm head in the midst of the chaos and protect Jenny. A mixed blessing and curse, just as it always had been.

Lucifer let out another sigh as he folded the newspaper and gathered his empty plate. He took it to the guild kitchens were the kindly cooks took it from him to be washed. They gave him two packed lunches, on for him and one for Jenny. Lucifer thanked them and they merely smiled in response. Then he left to find his sister to deliver her lunch to her.

As he left the guild hall, he was greeted with the sight of hundreds of people milling about, setting up booths, practicing routines, and trying to get some pre-festival sales in. Lucifer smiled at the scene that once would have sent him to his knees from all the memories he would peruse. Now, instead of being a nightmare, it was a peaceful and busy picture of humanity at work.

Lucifer took a deep breath and let it out, a contented smile spreading across his face. He set off at a brisk pace, asking others along the way if they had seen Jenny. He soon found her with some friends near some performers, watching in awe as a man on very high stilts ate fire.

Lucifer smiled at her face. He cautiously walked up behind her, making sure not to let any of them know he was there. Then, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and covered her eyes. "Guess who," he commanded playfully, smiling widely.

Jenny was surprised at first, but quickly recovered at the voice of the person behind her. "Brother!" she squealed as she spun around and hugged her sibling. "You're up!"

Lucifer laughed happily at his sister and nodded in response to the shy hellos of Allie and Alexis, a pair of sisters that were two of Jenny's friends. The young boy held out the lunch that had been prepared for her and Jenny let out another squeal. He smiled as she and the other two begged him to go around with them to explore. Lucifer had become a bit of an older brother figure for Jenny's friends, who referred to him as Luke. He supposed that they were in fact his friends as well, but Lucifer thought that it would be best for Jenny if he tried to find friends of his own.

After finally giving in to the excited demands of the children around him, the six-year-old wandered with them from booth to booth. They watched jugglers practicing their acts, laughing as some of the apprentices fumbled in the middle of their act. They looked at some of the game booths, Jenny expressing her desire to play some of them with Lucifer when the Festival started. Lucifer promised to take her, making a mental note to ask Sam if they could have some money for the festivities.

As they wandered, they happened upon a large crowd. Music could be heard. "What's going on here?" Alexis asked curiously.

"It sounds like someone's playing music," Jenny said, tilting her head to the side as she listened .They came closer to investigate. Using their small size to their advantage, the four weaved their way through the crowd, the enchanting music luring them to the center to discover the source.

When they reached the center edge of the circle, they all stared in wonder. All of them stood there entranced by both her beauty and the bright, lilting melody that came from the metal instrument in her hands.

The woman leaned against a pillar beneath the shade of a broken stone walkway, most likely because her almost deathly pale skin would burn quickly in the direct light of the sun. Her eyes were closed, her body swaying gently with the music. A worn and patched traveler's pack was resting next to her, the open case for the flute resting before it to accept spare change. Several other instrument cases were scattered about it. Her music was divine, eclipsed only by the beauty of the player.

Her hair was an alabaster white so pure that snow would be envious of its luster. She wore it in a long braid that would have reached her knees if it wasn't wrapped around her shoulders. Tying the braid together was a single black ribbon with a long obsidian feather dangling from the knot by a short string. The end was placed so that the feather dangled peacefully over her heart. Her bangs were left free to frame her face gently, ending just above her shoulders. Long, pointed ears jutted out from the side of her head, only adding to her pristine beauty and showing her heritage proudly.

Lucifer was awed at the elf. He had never seen someone like her. She looked delicate, almost like a flower. Her clothing, which covered every part of her body from the neck down, appeared to be made of white suede and was perfectly clean and well-kept, a stark contrast to the clearly old pack she carried. The clothing was fitted perfectly to her form, so much that it was almost like a second skin. Covering her entire outfit except for her hands and feet was a crisscrossing black wire. Hundreds upon hundreds of black bird feathers in various states of unkemptness were looped upon this wire with more of the black string. The mess of feathers that covered affair amount of the woman left the area around her heart open, framing the single feather in perfect condition upon her braid.

The crowd watched and listened in wonder to the spectacle and allowed their ears to be tantalized and caressed by the sweet tones of her music. After a while, the song ended and the elf pulled the flute from her lips. She let out a small sigh as a slight smile graced her lips. The entire crowd erupted into applause, surprising the woman that was their focus. Her eyes flew open in her shock, revealing two splotches of color on her person. Her right eye was a bright viridian green while her left eye was a soft hazelnut brown. A light magenta painted her cheeks as she blushed and closed her eyes, a nervous smile on her face.

"That was so pretty," Jenny said in wonder as people began to approach the woman.

"Indeed. She is very talented," Lucifer said, watching as Gald was tossed into the woman's flute case. Several of the people appeared to be musicians and were in heated discussion with her. Lucifer figured they were probably begging her to join them. "I wonder who she is."

"Let's go talk to her!" Allie suggested. The next thing Lucifer knew, Jenny and her friends had run off towards the woman. The crowd was thinning now as the woman expertly took apart her flute. She had finally managed to fend off the pestering musicians, and was gathering the Gald she had earned.

"Wait for me!" the young boy cried, reaching for them as he gave chase. He weaved through the dispersing crowd and made his way over to the three girls who had gathered around the elf.

Jenny was next to her, smiling brightly and looking up at the woman. On her other side was Allie and Alexis was looking at all of the instrument cases. Jenny was pestering the woman with questions excitably, "Are you here for the festival? Where'd you learn to play the flute? Why is the feather in your hair all alone? Where are you from? Can you play another song?"

The woman laughed at the girl's quick-fire questions, her voice twinkling and chiming like the wind chimes that decorated many of the homes of Asgard. She patted the girl on the head. "Well, I actually came here to visit some old friends. It just happens that I'm arriving two days before the festival," she answered. "I taught myself how to play the flute, along with all my other instruments. The feather is all alone because it represents someone special to me. I don't quite remember where I'm from, it's been so long and it never really mattered to me. And as for another song, I would love to, but…" the woman hesitated.

Seeing her reluctance, Lucifer decided to intervene. "Jenny," he called, walking up to her. "Don't run off like that."

Everyone turned their attention to him. Alexis gave him a childish smirk. "Maybe you shouldn't be so slow, Luke," she chided. "Then you won't have to worry about us running away!"

The woman smiled at the new arrival. "Hello there. What's your name?" she asked warmly.

"I'm Lucifer," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. "I'm Jenny's brother."

The elf giggled at the six-year-old's action. It looked so out of place on his tiny frame, but she didn't say anything. "Well, Mr. Lucifer, it's nice to meet you. My name is Zoe," she responded, shaking Lucifer's hand. "You have such a wonderful name. Did you know that it means 'Light Bringer'?"

Lucifer blinked. "No, I did not."

"Well, now you do," Zoe laughed. "I've always found it important to know what your name means. After all, your name is the source of quite a few first impressions."

"What does your name mean, flute lady?" Allie asked, curious.

Zoe smiled mischievously. "That's a secret," she said, putting her gloved finger to her lips and winking. The elf then sighed. "Well, I suppose I should get going. With this festival going on I'm sure most of the inns are full," the woman said as she finished packing her flute. She began to gather her belongings. Lucifer noticed a black sheath that had escaped his attention before. A katana with a pure black handle rested within it. "I'll have to find one of my friends and ask if I can stay over with them."

"Who are you looking for? We may know them." Lucifer asked, curious.

"I'm looking for a Sam Estanque."

Allie jumped in excitement. "Oh, you mean the old guildmaster?!"

Zoe nodded in response. "Yes. We're old friends."

Alexis smiled just like her sister. "Luke and Jenny live with him, they can show you the way," She proclaimed.

Zoe smiled at the two. "Well, I would like that very much. I wasn't sure I could remember the way to him and find it with all these people milling about."

Lucifer knew she was just patronizing them, but he couldn't help but smile at her. Jenny brightened considerably and grabbed the woman's hand, pulling at her. Zoe laughed once more, "Hold on, hold on. I need to put on my hat." The woman reached over and picked up a large white sunhat and placed it on her head. "Now, I'm ready."

"OK!" Jenny chirped. She waved to her friends. "Bye Alexis, bye Allie. See you tomorrow!" Lucifer and Zoe both waved goodbye to the other two girls as they respectively walked and were pulled away.

Lucifer decided to get to know the woman that would undoubtedly be living in the same building as they. "So, Zoe, how do you know Sam?" he asked.

"Well," Zoe drawled, her dual-colored eyes looking up in thought. "We met about twenty-nine years ago. I had just… separated from my family." Lucifer could detect the half-truth in that sentence, but felt that it was not his place to know. After all, it wasn't his business and he felt that he should respect privacy as much as possible since he now had the ability to. "I started wandering the world and he gave me some help when I showed up in Asgard. The flute I was playing earlier was given to me by him, so I always play it whenever I come into this town in remembrance of that."

Jenny looked up at the elf, her eyes wide. "You're really old," she stated.

Zoe laughed at her sincerity. "Yes, I am," she told the girl. "I'm older than anyone you've met."

Jenny's mouth dropped. "Even older than the smelly lady that brother used to work for?" Zoe raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded. "That's really, really old! I don't think you can be that old. You look too young."

Zoe shrugged. "I am. You see, I'm an elf, and we elves live a lot longer than humans. So someone could be even older than me and look just as young as I do."

Jenny was resolute in her belief, while Lucifer smiled. He liked this woman. She was kind, and she seemed to have quite a bit of patience around Jenny, something he considered very important.

"So where are you two from?" Zoe asked.

"Triet," Jenny chirped.

"Really?" Zoe asked. "I don't think I could live there. My skin is so sensitive to the sun that I have to cover everything twice when I go to the desert. Did something happen to bring you into Sam's care?"

Jenny shrugged. "I think so. I'm not sure. Brother says something happened and we can't go back to Triet. He won't tell me what."

Zoe turned to Lucifer and gave him a knowing look. "I'm sure he has his reasons," she said. "After all, he wouldn't keep something from you if it really mattered, would he?" she asked with a smile.

Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment before breaking into a giant grin. "No way! Brother always protects me!" Zoe merely smiled at the girl in response and Lucifer seemed shocked at the woman. She knew, he could tell. But if she knew then why had she asked?

Lucifer pondered this conundrum while they walked. He almost didn't notice when they reached the guild hall.

Just as they were about to enter, the door swung open and Sam rushed out. "Zoe! It's so good to see you again!" he cried, holding his arms out for a hug, which the other woman gave happily. "How has life been on the road?"

"Same old, same old, Sam. I noticed that you got yourself two new charges," Zoe answered. Sam looked down to see Lucifer and Jenny looking at them both. Jenny had wide, curious eyes and a look so cute Zoe couldn't help but make a silent "Aw," at her.

"Mr. Sam, is it true that flute lady is older than you?" Jenny asked. Lucifer sighed.

"Jenny," he berated, "you know her name. It's Zoe. It's rude to keep calling her 'flute lady'." Jenny just grunted cutely and folded her arms, looking away from Lucifer. The boy rolled his eyes at his sister.

The adults laughed at the children. Sam leaned down and patted the girl's head. "Yes, Jenny, it is true Zoe is older than I am. In fact, she is one hundred thirty-four years old, if I remember right."

"Wow!" Jenny shouted in excitement. "You're really old!"

Zoe giggled at the girl and nodded with a smile. "I sure am," she said.

"You're just like that lady we met in Triet. You're a young and old lady!"

Zoe raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask. She turned to Sam and gave him a look. "By the way, I'm actually one hundred thirty-_five_ now," Zoe corrected gently. "My birthday was two weeks ago."

"I see," Sam replied. "You'll have to forgive me; I didn't get you a present."

"That's fine." Zoe waved away his apology. "Everything you've done for me already is enough. I probably would have been burned to a crisp by the sun two years out."

"Speaking of your condition…" Sam began, giving the elf a sharp glare. "What are you doing awake already? Sundown isn't for several more hours."

Zoe sighed. "I'm not allowed to have the decency to show up at what is a decent hour for most people?" She asked before adding, "Besides, I've always loved the sunshine. It's as fascinating to me as the night sky is to you people who stay awake during the day." Then a sly look was sent to the guild master. "Now it's my turn. What are you doing greeting old friends and chatting it up with them when you've still got a mountain of paperwork to finish?"

Sam started spluttering at that. "H-How did you k-know about that?" he managed to demand after a few moments.

"You know better than to doubt my sources! And you know it's my job to know everything," Zoe chided, winking at the elderly human. Then, a more somber look graced her appearance. "I'm also aware about Max already. I'm sorry," she offered, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

Sam sighed sadly but shrugged the hand off. "He died a noble death, protecting the man he saw as a brother. I'm just happy that he died as he did."

Zoe offered the man an empathetic smile. "I hope Robert took it well. He was already in an uncertain emotional state from the anniversary," she murmured to herself, low enough that Sam couldn't hear her. She then turned to the children, only to find that they had vanished. "Seems the kids excused themselves," she noted, loud enough for the man to hear.

Sam looked over as well and let out a laugh. "So it does. I'm sure Lucifer realized that they should leave and let us catch up. He's far too mature for a boy his age."

"So the rumors I heard are true then," Zoe mused aloud. "That boy is – or was – a Thread Diviner. He hasn't shown the ability since Triet was destroyed, though. It makes me wonder what happened to him specifically during that night. All I know is that there was fire, demons, and a dragon-like beast involved.

Sam turned to her, his mouth open as if to ask a question. After a few moments, he just shook his head and turned away. "I'm not even going to bother asking how you know and just agree with you."

"There, you see!" Zoe cheered, ruffling the old man's hair. "You're learning!"

"Yes, I'm learning that you're a professional stalker."

"Hey!" Zoe shouted in fake anger. "I've told you time and again, I am not a stalker! I'm an information broker! It's my job to know everything. Besides, I know I've told you that Rule No. 4 was my master's favorite."

"You know, you always tell me about these rules, but you never say who or what they're for. Or even what they are, exactly."

Zoe froze with a plastic smile on her face. "Why don't you get back to the paperwork? I'll help you with it!" she offered, blatantly changing the subject and bargaining with the old guild master to let it drop.

Sam shot her a look. "Zoe Cuore, I know you're hiding something," He accused. "But… since you're offering to help with that infernal paperwork, I'll let it slide this time." He then turned and marched back into the guild.

Zoe let out a breath and wiped her brow. "That was a close one," she said to herself. "I shouldn't even be mentioning those rules anymore. I don't have to live by them anymore. I guess it's just difficult to undo one hundred years of indoctrination." She then followed the guild master inside to help with his dreaded paperwork.

* * *

The full moon shined brightly on the city of Asgard. What had been full of hustle and bustle during the day was dead and eerie in the dark of the night. The wind groaned softly around the new constructs that dotted its path, and the otherwise silent streets offered an ominous setting.

A lone figure roamed the deserted streets. Her voice offered the night a respite from the dismal air it carried. Her sweet notes punctured the night, the melody somber and haunting as it was beautiful.

"_Siamo tutti schiavi/ Figli delle Tenebre/ Condannati al/ mondo delle favole," _Zoe sang, her voice shivering with every note, pouring her soul into the song. She wasn't worried about anyone listening in. Very few would be able to understand the language after all. _"Tutti schiavi/ uniti dalle Tenebre/ Condannati al/ vivere la favole." _She continued to sing the strange melody, allowing her mind to wander as she did.

The night was her element. The darkness that night harbored flocked to her like a mother to her distressed child. She was born in it; she was raised in it; she had basted in it for almost her entire life.

How could she not have? The sun, the bright orb of day and constant source of light, had forsaken her the moment she was born. It burned at her unnaturally pale skin. Even in the shade, it tried to immolate her. Only by hiding beneath her clothing and in the darkened dwellings of man and beast could she be free from it. She learned early on that both she and her sister were doomed to forever be the enemies of the sun.

She didn't mind. After all, the sun, for all its beauty and majesty, never could amount to the silent grace of the night. The moon bathed all with its silvery glow and gave the land an ethereal image. And when the moon hid, the stars twinkled in the sky, painting beautiful and gorgeous images across the sky. And when both hid their faces, then only darkness ruled.

And truly, Darkness was a kinder mistress than Light. She hid the sins of those who ran to her. She embraced all, and left none to stand in shame. Darkness comforted those who went to it, allowing them to slip peacefully into the oblivion of sleep that Light prevented.

That is what Zoe had thought for many years. Even now, she knew it to be true. But she also knew more about Darkness.

She had seen the horrors that Darkness hid.

Ever kind and forgiving, Darkness could prove to be even crueler than the Light. Those who basked in the ephemeral glow of Light feared to leave it, and that fear led them to try and be better people. But those wrapped in Darkness's loving embrace had no such fear. They could do whatever they desired and faced no consequence from the Darkness, which led some to be terrors.

Zoe sighed, her song long since finished. Her eyes turned up to the moon, reflecting its argent in their orbs. "Woden," she said aloud, her voice filled with an aching curiousity. "Why was I born to be your child? You have blessed me with so much, and yet all those blessing are a curse to me. Why, Woden, why must the Darkness you cast always follow me? After all, even Father, your most loyal servant, disowned me and said that I was better suited to the Light."

Zoe looked around her to find that she now stood on the outcropping that held the grocer's and the equipment shop that overlooked the entrance path. She walked to the walkway of stone and stared into the abyss that Asgard was built around. "Woden," she began, sending one last prayer as she crouched, pulling the sheathed sword she carried with her across her body. "Why was I born with this skin that shuns the Light as much as it is shunned by it? Why has every blessing you've given me only felt like a curse? Why, Woden?" a silent tear slipped from her eyes as she was sent careening into memories of her life.

"Who's Woden?" a voice asked. Zoe gave a start and looked down, seeing a familiar black-haired mercenary with a large dog-like creature. Zoe slyly smiled down at the man as she stood back up, noting the distinct lack of his trademark armor. She was well aware of when and how he had lost the armor. Both sets of the armor, that is.

Zoe gave a teasing smirk and closed her eyes before saying in a childish tone, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the famous Dragonhide Caston. But what is this? He seems to be missing his armor! I'm inclined to believe that I'm facing a doppelganger. And on top of that, it's long since passed his bedtime. The little Robby I know wouldn't dream of staying up this late."

Robert frowned. "Don't give me that crap," He answered. "I know for a fact that you are perfectly aware that I've lost both sets. And I'm twenty-seven, that hardly counts as a child anymore. I think I can handle staying up past midnight once or twice."

Zoe giggled and gave the most innocent look she could, putting the gloved finger of her unoccupied hand to her lip and pouting adorably. "Now that's just mean!" she fake-whined. "How would little old me know anything about a big strong mercenary like you losing his important armor?" Her look then shifted to a shit-eating grin as she placed her hand to her hip. "And besides, I'm five times older than you, boy. You're still a child to me," she jeered, her kiddie voice fading.

Robert sighed. "Just get down here, you she-devil in an elf's skin," he growled.

Zoe giggled once more and hopped down, not even flinching from the height. She spread her arms wide and grinned idiotically. "How about a hug for your Auntie Zoe?" she asked in her fake-child's tone.

"No," Robert deadpanned without any hesitation.

Zoe wilted, putting one hand over her eyes in despair and placing the other against a pillar for support. "Not even a thought to the action! How can you deny your dear old friend who helped train you a simple hug so quickly?" she asked, her voice low and husky as if she was going to cry.

"It's precisely because you helped train me that I don't want to hug you. It's nothing against you; I just don't fancy a knife to the side right now. I've got enough injuries as it is."

Zoe lowered her hand slightly so one eye gazed at him, a calculating gleam shining in it. "To think you'd see through my clever ploy! And you don't even flinch in the face of a beautiful woman crying before your very eyes!" she said in a conspiratorial tone just loud enough for the man to hear.

Robert sweatdropped. "It's good to see that you haven't changed at all, Zoe." He said, his face carefully neutral. Rolshe rolled her eyes at the elf's antics before padding up to her. She sniffed her quietly before giving her a gentle nudge. Zoe straightened up and, leaning her sword against the pillar, gently caressed her muzzle, lips wavering while her eyes glistened with tears.

"Oh, Rolshie," she wept, "Where did I go wrong? Poor little Robby hates his auntie so much he won't even give her a hug!" Zoe wrapped her arms around Rolshe's neck and wailed, "At least you'll never reject me!"

At this point, Robert wasn't sure whether he should face palm or be embarrassed. "Yeah, you certainly haven't changed at all," He sighed in defeat and rubbed his head. "Alright, alright, I'm a bad boy. I get it. I'm still not going to hug you. And don't abuse Rolshe's willingness to be close to you. She never even lets me hug her like that."

"That's because I'm a nice lady who knows how to treat her friends," she professed before sending a dark glare at Robert, still hugging the canine protozoan. "Unlike some people…"

Robert and Rolshe both sighed. "Anyway," Robert started, "back to my question. Who is Woden?"

Zoe let go of Rolshe and stared at Robert in shock. "You haven't been this perceptive since Krystle died!" she declared. "I had thought you would have forgotten about that by now!"

Robert flinched. "How long have you known about that?" Zoe gave him a knowing look before Robert slapped himself in the forehead. "Right, stupid question. Then I guess you already know about my run-in with a certain someone in Stantol?"

Zoe nodded. "Yep. I'm glad Caduta didn't kill you. Well done beating her apprentice too. Any of the kids that get to be that old are definitely strong, especially if they're assigned the Corvina as their mentor."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Caduta? The Corvina? What are you talking about?"

Zoe smirked. "Caduta is my sister's name. Caduta Corvina. As for everything else, it's best for both of us if you're kept in the dark on this one."

Robert sighed. He was tired and he always found talking with the partially albino elf to be taxing. His patience was running thin. "Alright, that saves me a lot of headaches." Zoe pouted at this. "And now, since I passed along your message to your sister, care to answer my question in return?"

Zoe sighed in defeat. It was clear to her that she would not distract the man from the name. "Fine, you win Robert. I'll tell you who Woden is."

"Good. Now we can get somewhere."

"Well, I'll give you hints."

Robert groaned as Zoe picked her sword back up. She drew the katana to reveal a blade as black as the handle, save for two things. The edge gleamed brightly in the silver light, reminding Robert of a dragon's fang. On the blunt side of the blade silver runes were etched into the metal and gave off a soft, almost imperceptible glow. "You know my sword, the Black Fang, of course," she said holding the weapon out, her voice taking on a seriousness that was lost to it moments ago.

"How could I forget?" he asked dryly. After all, heaven knows how much pain that one weapon caused him throughout his training.

"This sword is said to have been blessed by Woden himself. In the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use it, it could make any spell they cast be completed at least 50% faster."

"But you don't use magic."

"Correct," Zoe sighed, her eyes downcast. "I cannot use artes or magic. That ability is… lost to me," she whispered. She shook herself and continued, "Now, if someone were to train and master this blade, they would find that it gathers mana around it and supercharges the air around the wielder, enabling them to be able to cast spells instantaneously. Only the most advanced spells require an incantation, and even then a shortened version is all that's necessary.

"But that's not all it does. Any and all Dark elemental magic is strengthened by it, and any artes using the Darkness element channeled through it are strengthened as well." Zoe sheathed the sword and looked the impressed Robert in the eyes. "Can you guess who Woden, the one who blessed this sword, is?"

Robert frowned. That wasn't enough information. "Also, another hint," Zoe called, regaining Robert's attention. "There is a cape you can wear with his symbol on it. This cape protects you greatly from the Darkness element."

Robert frowned. He knew of Woden's cape, but somehow he hadn't made the connection. The answer was obvious. Maybe. "Something to do with Darkness?" he guessed, uncertain as to what he was supposed to say.

Zoe sighed. "Woden is, primarily, the God of Darkness."

"Primarily?"

"He rules over a couple of other aspects, but the biggest one is Darkness." Zoe sheathed the katana before walking over to the man and bopping him on the head with the handle. "You should have been able to figure that out by how many times I said 'Darkness'."

Robert shrugged. "Hey, unlike you, I'm a steadfast believer in the church of Martel. And they don't mention anything about there being any other gods or goddesses."

Zoe sighed and turned away from Robert. "And that's why you'll never be truly great. You're not accepting of ideals or ideas that you thought weren't possible before."

They were both silent for a moment. "Hey, Zoe," Robert called, getting the elf's attention. "What were you doing praying to the God of Darkness?"

Zoe laughed. "Because Woden is the one that defines my life the best. I've been trapped in darkness since I was born. Since the light shuns me, it is only natural."

Robert was silent as he thought over what he knew of his friend. It was true enough. "Okay. One more thing, though. How is your sister supposed to find you since I never even know when you'll show up or how long you'll stay? And Martel knows where I'd find you when you're not in Asgard."

Zoe smiled brightly at that, casting the man a knowing glance over her shoulder. "Rule No. 4, of course," she answered.

Robert raised an eyebrow. "You mean 'Rule of the Assassin No. 4?" Robert asked. Zoe froze. "Corvina recited it after I killed her apprentice. It went something like 'Knowledge is the greatest weapon.'"

Zoe took a deep breath and let it out. "Rule of the Assassin No. 4," she recited, her voice low and hesitant. "Knowledge is an assassin's greatest and most silent weapon." Zoe sighed. "That's what we were taught. It is one of the more important rules of the Ninety-Nine Rules of the Assassin. After all, a lack of knowledge leads to death."

Robert seemed confused at her words. "Zoe?" he prodded, noting how her shoulders seemed to shake.

The elf continued. "The most sacred Rule is Rule of the Assassin No. 99, but that is not to be uttered in the presence of outsiders. And the most important is Rule of the Assassin No. 1: The client doesn't have a name. You receive the contract from them and kill the target, no questions asked." Zoe gave a wry smile, though Robert couldn't see it. "Ironically, Rule No. 89 is: Know as much about the contractor as you do about the target." She gave a small laugh. "I never understood that."

Robert was silent. It was rare for Zoe to be this open. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked cautiously.

Zoe shrugged. "Maybe I'm tired of hiding it. Maybe, since it's been kept in the dark for so long, I wanted to bring it to the light. I don't really know. I guess I'm just tired of hiding my past from the people I care about. Why do you think I know all these Rules of the Assassin if I'm not an assassin?"

Robert shifted uncomfortably. "You… used to be an assassin?" he asked, his mind refusing to believe that the cheerful and energetic elf was once a cold-blooded killer.

Zoe turned around, a grieving smile set beneath tear-filled eyes. "I've never told you everything about me. I've always kept secrets from you. You know this, and despite that, you still genuinely care for me. I thank you for that," she told him.

Robert frowned and walked over to the woman and put an arm around her. "You know I hate to see you cry," he whispered soothingly while he rubbed her shoulder.

Zoe nodded, though her tears didn't stop. "I can't tell you anything about my life before I left that profession," she said through her tears. "I've already said too much. It's best for both of us if you just walk away right now and don't ask for any more information. Please, go… before I start telling secrets that are best kept in the dark."

Robert hesitated. He had never seen Zoe like this before and he was unwilling to leave her alone like this. Zoe smiled brightly, no longer sobbing but tears still staining her face. "Go, I'll be fine," she ordered, nudging the man. Robert slowly let go of her and walked away, Rolshe following him.

As she watched Robert fade into the night, a soft smile grew on her lips. She wiped away the tears in her eyes, the salty water drying up almost as fast as it had come. "I've still got it," Zoe congratulated herself. "It's a good thing he's a sucker for tears, otherwise I might not have been able to get him to lay off the subject." Zoe glanced to a corner full of shadows. "You can come out now, Nazo. The man who's after your blood is gone."

From the shadowy corner that Zoe had looked to, emerged a man covered in bandages with a single eye exposed. "I'm impressed, Zoe. Thirty years of inactivity have done nothing to dull your senses," Nazo praised.

Zoe snorted. "Please don't patronize me! You and I both know that Master would be ashamed to see me as I am now. Besides, I would have noticed you sooner, but my connection to mana has been cut off for some time."

Nazo laughed. "Humble as always. Even when I brought you and your sister to Downes, you were always so modest about everything. Your music soothes even my wretched and tormented soul, and yet you claim that it isn't anything special."

Zoe let out a sigh. "Is there a reason you've come, Nazo?" she asked.

Nazo tilted his head and his bandages stretched into a smile. "Is it so wrong for me to want to meet up with my foster child every once in a while?"

Zoe finally turned to face him, indignation clear in her eyes. "Don't you _dare_ claim that title!" she hissed. "You left both me and my sister in that hellish place they called a guild. I don't remember much about my life before I was taken there, but I know it couldn't have been worse than that place! I was only six when I first killed!" she roared. Then her eyes grew sad as she spoke the next words, "My dear sister, sweet Caduta… she killed when she was three."

Nazo seemed put off by her rage. "But you are still alive today because I took you there. The guild master doesn't normally accept anyone with any living family, but because I asked he made an exception with you and your sister. On top of that, you got to be trained personally by none other than the Crowe himself, the greatest assassin in the world, for thirty years."

Zoe spat at the man's feet. "The past twenty-nine years have taught me a lot, Nazo," she growled at him. "It made me realize why I had clung so tightly to my sister and Master. I was sick." Zoe clutched at her chest. "My heart was sick! I was in that place of death so long; my soul grew so tainted that I became physically ill by the end of my time there."

Zoe pointed an accusing finger at Nazo. "It's because of you that my soul is stained so black that nothing can cleanse it, because it is all the dried blood from every single life that I stole! And the worst part is…" Real tears began to shine in the corners of her eyes as she finally began to break down. "The worst part is…" she slumped to the ground, hugging herself as if she was trying to keep her body from falling apart. "The worst part is… that _his_ blood is a part of it." Zoe let the tears, real tears this time, fall. She clutched gently at the feather in her hair, stroking it fondly.

Nazo sighed. "You know my nature," he began. "You know my past and my present. You know what I yearn for. You know that if I claimed to be sorry, I would be lying." Zoe sniffed and nodded, not trusting her voice to last. "You know why I saved you. You know of the true power that you hold.

"I sent you there to make you strong. I had to make sure that you would survive. If you must curse someone, then curse me. I do not care. But I will not lie and say that I regret my actions. My plan will come to fruition, with or without you. But it will be so much easier with you. My soul is stained even blacker than yours, but that doesn't hold me down."

Nazo walked up to the crying elf and cupped his hand under her chin. He pulled her head up so she looked into his eye. "I yearn to be whole. Just as you yearn to see the man you loved one last time; to lay him to rest properly; to free him from the shackles that seal his soul to this plane. I understand that yearning, and I can relate. That is why I came to tell you that you may just get your chance."

Zoe sniffled, her tears slowly subsiding. "What do you mean?" she asked. "How can I get my chance when he's already dead?"

"If you wish to lay Vladimir Crowe to rest – properly – then all you must do is follow Ratatosk."

"Ratatosk?"

"Yes."

Zoe shook her head. "But Vlad is dead. I killed him myself. A sword, laden with three of my deadliest poisons, plunged straight through his heart. And it wasn't just any sword, either. It was White Venom! Even if he somehow miraculously survived the loss of his heart, the poisons would destroy the rest of his body!"

Nazo chuckled. "Well, my dear Crow of Toxicity, you will see for your own eyes soon enough." Nazo took his hand from her chin and turned away. "Ready your poisons and potions and venom. Your fangs, which have been merely for show thus far, will need to be bared once more."

Nazo summoned a gateway and walked through, the black mist that formed the portal fading perfectly into the shadows. Zoe knelt there for a while longer, uncertain if she could trust herself. Slowly, she reached into a hidden pocket to pull out a sweet potato ocarina. She smiled as she looked at it. It was clearly old and worn with both age and use.

"I still have the ocarina you gave me, Vlad," she whispered to no one. "The same one you gave me when I became the Corvina. It was, what, eighty-seven years ago? It was your first, and last, gift to me. You said that when you heard me play one, you knew I had to have one. So, instead of letting me buy one, you bought it yourself and gave it to me. You told me…" she gripped the instrument tighter, being careful not to break it. "You told me that my music made you forget about the life you led."

A final tear fell from her eye as she cradled the old instrument to her chest. "Please, for once, let Nazo be wrong about something. Please, Vlad, be at peace, where you are meant to be." With that she put the ocarina to her lips and played a mournful song, singing the words in her head.

_I'm so tired of being here.  
Suppresed by all my childish fears._

_And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave.  
Cause your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone!_

_These wounds won't seem to heal!  
This pain is just too real!  
There's just too much that time cannot erase!_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
You still have_

_All of me_

_You used to captivate me by your resonating light.  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind._

_Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams.  
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me!_

_These wounds won't seem to heal!  
This pain is just too real!  
There's just too much that time cannot erase!_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.  
And I held your hand through all of these years.  
You still have_

_All of me_

_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone.  
But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along!_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.  
And I held your hand through all of these years.  
You still have_

_All of me  
All of me  
All of me_

XXXXX

_**I just realized I didn't do a disclaimer for the songs. Though I think it's obvious that I don't own them seeing as this is fan fiction and, let's face it, my poetry skills just aren't good enough for publishing, let alone a song.**_

_**Lucifer: The first song is the chorus of the song **_**Figli delle Tenebre **_**by Hotel Saint George. **_

_**It is in Italian and I do know the translation. It's a very upbeat song with repeating lyrics (it's genre is Dance music, or rave music as a friend of mine calls it), but I like it.**_

_**Lucifer: The second is **_**My Immortal**_** by Evanescence. **_

_**An excellent band. I was listening to this song on one of my nighttime walks and thought, "this would be perfect for Zoe to sing." So I decided to put it in here.**_

_**Now, I hope you all are ready, because I'm about to spitfire major event after major event.**_

_**Lucifer: Though he will try to space them out enough that you can still follow the story. Only one major event per chapter. **_

_**The good news is that that was the last OC for a while.**_

_**Lucifer: What about her?**_

… _**Oh yeah, almost forgot about her. Well, she'll pop up at the end of a chapter. Anyway, focusing on Zoe, what do you guys think? I'm reading over this and she seems a tad bit different around Robert. In fact, during that scene where Zoe and Robert were talking, I almost spilled a few secrets that I wanted to keep hidden! Zoe wanted me to have her confess to Robert. Then, she had me troll Robert. In the words of Bugs Bunny: "Ain't she a stinker?" **_

_**Lucifer: Out of curiosity, what precisely does she do for a living? Besides street-side performances.**_

_**Well, she is an information broker.**_

_**Lucifer: Pardon?**_

_**She sells information. She probably never would have thought of doing it if it weren't for Rule No. 4.**_

_**Speaking of the Rules of the Assassin, I revealed what Rule No. 1 is! **_

_**Lucifer: But what is Rule No. 99?**_

_**It's a secret.**_

_**Oh, and I'm going to do this for the hell of it. **_

**Zoe earned the title of Information Broker: "You can't keep secrets from me and my sources! And for the last time, I'm not a stalker!" A title for one who's job is to know everything about everyone.**

_**Yeah, titles for my characters. Might do this more regularly, might not. While I'm at it.**_

**Zoe earned the title of Crocodile Tears: A few sobs, some sniffling, and a whine or two. Those are the ingredients to make a man's heart break just looking at you.**

**Robert earned the title of Berserker: Your blood is up. You adrenaline is pumping. It doesn't matter who or what gets in your way. Friend or foe, you will cut it down.**

**Robert earned the title of Cursed: You live bearing the pain of your past. You can't escape it, but you don't want to. The past cannot be undone, and so you will bear this sorrow with you to your grave.**

**Lucifer earned the title of Child of Disaster: Your life is a personal hell brought on by your power. Tragedy follows you like a bad odor. You can't bring back what's lost, so protect what you still have.**

**Emerald earned the title of Self-Neglecting Artist: "I'll go to sleep once I finish this drawing. I'll eat when I'm done with this carving." A title for one who puts her work before her health.**

**Sylvia earned the title Prankster: A whoopee cushion here, some extra spicy food there. A title for one who loves tormenting others. Just remember to choose your victim wisely.**

**Thomas and Sylpher earned the title of Master Debaters: "We don't argue! We never have! All we've ever done is engage in a friendly debate." A title for those who could always choose a better time.**

_**Well, that's enough rambling for me. If you want, I can put these titles in their corresponding chapters. **_

_**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. By the way, Merry Christmas. If you celebrate something else, then Happy/Merry (insert December holiday of your choice here)!**_

_**Lucifer: Reviews make wonderful Christmas presents!**_

_**Indeed they do, Lucifer. Indeed they do. Please leave me some!**_


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